Fabray's Anatomy
by HopeMatters
Summary: AU: Basically taking stories from Grey's Anatomy and giving them a Glee twist. Mostly Quinn centric. Faberry relationship. First fanfic
1. A Hard Day's Night

**Yeah crappy title, it doesn't quite work as well as Grey's anatomy, since as far as I'm aware there is no medical textbook named after our dear Quinn. But title's are hard okay? **

**Disclaimer: It's all Ryan Murphy and Shonda Rhimes. ****Seriously, most of the dialogue is stolen straight from Grey's episodes.**

**Also, anything in bold and italics, is the voice over from the episode. Hopefully it isn't confusing.**

* * *

_**The game. They say either a person has what it takes to play, or they don't. My mother was one of the greats. Me, on the other hand...I'm kinda screwed.**_

The first thing she feels as she wakes up is the cool air of the room against the exposed skin on her back. The sun beaming in through the window already hurts her head and she hasn't even opened her eyes yet, her mouth feels rough and dry, as it usually does in the aftermath of too much tequila.

'_Getting drunk the day before your first 48 hour shift as a surgical intern, you are such an idiot Quinn Fabray' _She thinks to herself as she finally feels brave enough to face the sunlight, she opens her eyes. Blinking heavily a few times. Everything's a little blurry at first, and it suddenly dawns on her how incredibly naked she is right now beneath the blanket slug loosely around her waist. She pulls it up a little to cover her chest, as she rolls onto her back and thinks back to try and remember the night before.

Okay so she went to the meet and greet for the first year interns...that guy with the bleach blonde hair kept talking to her and attempted to flirt...She got bored and left pretty quickly...went to the nearest bar...and then...

She looks to her left, and finally spots the long brown hair poking out for underneath a blanket on the ground.

Right that's what happened. She went to the nearest bar. Met the hot little brunette. They had drinks. They laughed. They flirted. They came back here and...Fucked all night.

Her thoughts from the night before are cut short when she hears a groan coming from the brunette, as she stirs. Quinn holds her breath, somewhat hoping if she stays as still as possible the other girl might not even notice her there. She watches as the brunette picks her head up, looking around herself in confusion, lifting the black bra off the floor in front of her.

She blearily looks towards Quinn with a small smile as she holds up the bra, "This...is...?"

Quinn makes a grab for her bra, smiling awkwardly "...Humiliating. On _so_ many levels. You have to go." Making her way around the room grabbing the clothes from the floor.

The brunette sits up, smirking, "Why don't you just come back down here and we can pick up where we left off?"

Quinn tightens the blanket around her, as she hands the other girl her clothes, fighting off a smile at her flirty tone. "No. Seriously. You have to go. I'm going to be late. Which really isn't what you want to be on your first day of work, so...?"

The shorter girl nods her head, but ploughs on with an attempt at conversation, "So, ah, you actually live here?" she asks as she looks around the spacious living room.

"No." Quinn responds almost instantly.

"Oh." The girl replies, furrowing her brow slightly confused.

"Yes." Quinn winches at her contradictory answers. "Kind of." She finally settles on.

"Well it's nice. Little dusty, odd. But it's nice." The other girl replies, nodding her head as she takes another look around the multitude of boxes haphazardly strewn around the room "So how do you kind of live here?"

"I moved here two weeks ago from New Haven, this was my mother's house. I'm in the process of selling it." Quinn answers as she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The brunette replies, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

"For what?" the blonde asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion.

"You said was..."

"Oh!" Quinn eyes widen in realization "My Mother's not dead. She's...You know what? We don't have to do the thing."

"We can do anything you want." The brunette smirks, before sliding her dress on over her head

"No. The thing, the exchanging details, pretending we care. ..Look I'm going upstairs to shower, okay? And when I get back down, you won't be here, so...um...Goodbye...um..." she trails off racking her brain for the name of the person stood in front of her.

"Rachel." the girl says slowly as she grins, reaching out her hand towards the blonde.

The blonde gives...Rachel, a tight smile. Taking the proffered hand in hers to shake. "Rachel. Right. Quinn."

"Quinn." the shorter girl repeats, almost to herself with a soft smile on her face. "Nice meeting you" she says as she moves closer to the blonde, keeping a hold of her hand.

Quinn shakes her head, untangling her hand and blushing as she mumbles a soft "Bye Rachel." Before fleeing up the stairs, away from the awkward encounter with her one night stand, to get ready for her first day.

* * *

Luckily for Quinn she manages to not be late for her first day. She enters the locker room moments before a tall, older woman with short blonde hair walks in. Dr. Sue Sylvester, Quinn recognized her immediately, not only is she the Chief of Surgery at Seattle Grace but she was also an old and dear friend of her mothers.

The Chief takes them on a tour of the surgical wing of the hospital, and even as Dr. Sylvester gives them the introductory speech of how the hospital works, Quinn can't help but look around in awe as they enter one of the operating theaters.

It's here that The Chief stops to deliver the most important part of what she has to say. She stands off to the side, arms folded across her chest as she looks at each of the interns intently.

"Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school, being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you."

The interns all look to the chief, the tone of her speech suggesting it as more of a warning to each of them of the hardships that awaits them that anything else and the serious look on her face indicates she really means business.

_**Like I said. I'm screwed.**_

After the tour around the hospital from Chief Sylvester, the interns are all sent back to the locker room to get changed into their scrubs before being assigned to their resident. Quinn begins to change into her scrubs quickly, her locker right next to a gorgeous Latina intern, who's busy pinning back her head in a tight ponytail.

"Only six women out of twenty." The blonde notices as she glances around the locker room.

The Latina looks over at Quinn, eyeing her carefully as if gauging whether she's worth talking to or not, in the end she nods her head before replying, "Yeah. I hear one of them is a model. Seriously, like that's going to help with the respect thing?" she says shaking her head, before stopping and taking another hard look at Quinn, "Wait it's not you is it?"

Quinn quirks an eyebrow half in surprise, half in amusement, "No, it's not me. You're Santana, right?"

Santana nods her head, her face relaxing slightly, "Which resident you assigned to? I got Beiste."

"The Nazi? Yeah, me too."

The blonde guy, who Quinn barely remembers from last night, pipes up from across the locker bay "You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we'll be tortured together, right? I'm Sam. Sam I am; and I don't like green eggs and ham." He finishes with what Quinn assumes is meant to be a charming smile.

"Oh. Wow. He has no game" Santana whispers to Quinn, who has to stifle a giggle as Sam awkwardly makes his way towards them, trying to untangle his stethoscope to place around his neck.

He stops just short of Quinn, smiling at her as he continues, "We, uh. We met at the mixer; you had a black dress with a slit up the side, strappy sandals..."

Quinn looks towards Santana who has her eyebrows raised and they share a look of disbelief and how awkward the blonde boy seems to be.

"And now you think I'm gay." He finishes glumly.

Santana looks to Quinn in amusement before replying, "Uh-huh, sure do Trouty Mouth"

He ignores Santana's jibe and continues to talk to Quinn "No, I'm not gay, it's...ah...just that, you know...you were, I mean you were very unforgettable."

As Sam's talking a Doctor arrives at the door and calls out "Evans, Fabray, Lopez, and Pierce." Quinn quickly begins to move away more focused on meeting her resident than making small talk.

"And I'm totally forgettable" Sam mumbles dejectedly as both Quinn and Santana brush past him without so much as a second look.

Santana is the first to reach the Doctor by the door, "Beiste?"

"End of the hall." Is the curt reply she gets from him as he points vaguely in that direction.

The group all follow where he points, and find a tall, heavy set woman with short dark hair, who's currently smiling softly with one of the nurses. It's Santana who first speaks up, "That's the Nazi?"

"I thought the Nazi would be a dude." is Sam's first response as they begin to make their way towards her.

"Maybe it's like professional jealousy. Maybe she's brilliant, and they call her the Nazi because they're jealous. Maybe she's nice." a tall skinny blonde contemplates as she comes to walk with them.

Santana raises an eyebrow at the tall blonde: "Let me guess. You're the Model."

The girl turns to Santana with a bright smile, her blue eyes shining in surprise. "How did you know? Are you like psychic or something?" her attention quickly averts back to Dr. Beiste, still smiling as she extends her hand. "Hi! I'm Brittany S. Pierce, but everyone just calls me Brittany."

Beiste looks her up and down, not bothering to respond or shake the offered hand.

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one," She begins once the group of interns reach her. "Don't bother sucking up; I already hate you, that's not going to change." She points to a collection of things sitting on the nurse's station. "Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you; you answer every page at a run. A run! That's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours. You're interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don't complain!" She opens a door leading to a room with some bunk beds. "On call rooms. Attendings hog them; sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three; if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?" she finishes looking to each of her interns.

Quinn raises her hand timidly.

Beiste looks at her "Yes?" she asks in a bored tone.

"You said five rules. That was only four." Quinn states slowly.

Just as she finishes Beiste's pager beeps, she looks down at it quickly before looking back up at her group of interns.

"Rule number five. When I move, you move." She takes off quickly, running down the corridor as all the interns rush after her.

* * *

It's almost seven hours into their shifts before the interns finally get a chance to grab some food. Sam sets his tray of food down next to Brittany, who seems to be staring at her sandwich with a look of almost horror on her face.

"You should eat something, 48 hour shifts are marathons not sprints. Eat." He states kindly to her.

"You try eating something after performing seventeen rectal exams. The Nazi hates me." She finishes as she looks glumly at her sandwich.

Just then Santana comes waltzing up to them dropping her tray down onto the table and plopping down in the chair opposite. "Did you guys know Quinn is inbred?"

"Like it's uncommon around here to be a doctor's – "Sam's sentence is cut short when Santana interrupts him,

"No, I mean like royally inbred. Her mother is Judy Fabray."

"Shut up. _The _Judy Fabray?" Brittany asks, her eyes wide with astonishment, as Santana nods her head to confirm her statement, while Sam just looks confused.

"Who's Judy Fabray?" he asks around a mouthful of pasta.

The two girls turn to look at him like he has two heads and laugh. It's Santana who recovers first to answer him. "Seriously Guppy? The Fabray method? Where'd you go to med school, Mars?"

"She was one of the first big chick surgeons. She practically invented the Abdominal Laparotomy." Brittany continues before Santana takes over again.

"She's a living legend. She won the Harper-Chang . _Twice!_" The brunette finishes, looking at Sam in disgust.

"So I didn't know one thing." Sam shrugs, trying to brush it off.

"God I would kill to have Judy Fabray as a mother. Scratch that I'd kill to _be_ Judy Fabray." Santana muses. Just as she finishes Quinn makes her way to their table, and joins them.

"Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic Oath I'd Kevorkian with my bare hands." She huffs out in frustration. She was so busy ranting about her pain in the ass patient she didn't notice the looks of awe from the others at the table, until now. "_What!?_"

Before any of them can answer her, the chief cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. David Martinez walks up to their table. He places his hands on his hips, smiling at them all, "Good afternoon interns. It's posted but I thought I'd share the good news personally." The four interns at the table look up at him, "As you know the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice." He pauses and slaps Sam on the back. "Sam Evans." He says smiling.

"Me!?" Sam asks, clearly stunned.

"You'll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations." Dr. Martinez states, before turning and walking out of the cafeteria, leaving behind a group of stunned interns, and a very disgruntled looking Santana.

"Did he say me?" Sam asks dumbfounded.

* * *

Has Quinn mentioned how much of a pain in the ass her patient, Katie Bryce is? Sure Quinn feels bad for her, I mean being 16 and having unexplained seizures must be pretty traumatic. But the fact that the kid has been nothing but rude and obnoxious towards Quinn means her patience is wearing very thin with her. Thank God she's on sedatives right now, otherwise Quinn isn't sure she could take listening to the girl go on and on, about the beauty pageant she's missing anymore.

The girl's parents finally arrive, just as Quinn's checking her vitals. They begin to ask Quinn a flurry of questions, overwhelming her. "Well...um...you know what? I'm not the doctor. Um, I'm a doctor! I'm just not Katie's doctor. So I'll go get them for you now." She nods at the parents before turning to go look for Dr. Beiste.

Once she finds Beiste, she directs her that the new neuro attending, Dr. Schuester will be taking over Katie's care, and that Quinn should go find the intern he has looking after the case until he gets out of surgery, "Berry I think is the name, they're over there." Beiste finishes gesturing in the general direction of the main desk, before she walks off.

Quinn surveys the room, and begins to walk towards where Beiste gestured, before stopping in her tracks when she notices a familiar figure standing at the desk. The same long glossy brunette hair that was poking out from under a blanket on her floor this morning. She stands frozen in shock as Rachel, or Dr. Berry glances up from the chart in her hands, meeting Quinn's eyes for a split second before turning back to the chart. Her dark brown eyes quickly flicking up again, widening in recognition just as Quinn scurries back through the doors she just came through.

_That's great Quinn, just great. Your uncomplicated, no strings, one night (and I'll never see you again) stand turns out to be another intern at your new job. Fuck my life._..Is all Quinn can think to herself as she quickly makes her way along the corridor, planning to find somewhere she can gather her thoughts before returning to work. A soft but firm hand takes a hold of her upper arm,

"Quinn, can I talk to you for a second?" Rachel asks as she guides Quinn into an empty stairwell. When Quinn realizes there's no escape she decides to be as professional as she can.

"Dr. Berry." She greets curtly, as she turns around to face the brunette.

"Dr. Berry? This morning it was Rachel. Now it's Dr. Berry?" Rachel asks with a smirk.

Quinn sighs, because last night was suppose to be an uncomplicated stress- reliever before staring her first day as an intern, because really her life right now is complicated enough. "Dr. Berry, we should pretend it never happened."

"What never happened? You sleeping with me last night? Or you throwing me out this morning?" Rachel asks highly amused, "Because both are fond memories I'd like to hold onto." She finishes leaning into Quinn's personal space slightly.

"No!" Quinn states, taking a step back. "There will be no memories. We aren't the two girls meeting at the bar anymore. This -" She gestures between them "Can't exist. You get that, right?"

Rachel smirks, enjoying how riled up the blonde seems to be getting, and decides to push a little further, "You took advantage of me and now you want to forget about it."

"I did not take –"Quinn starts to protest but is interrupted by the smaller girl.

"I was drunk, vulnerable and good-looking and you took advantage." Rachel states in a rather dramatic manner.

Quinn can't help but smile at how ridiculously adorable the brunette is, regardless of how hard she fights it "Okay. _I_ was the one who was drunk, and you are not _that_ good-looking."

"Well maybe not today, not in these scrubs." Quinn almost opens her mouth to object, and let Rachel know just how good those scrubs look on her, but realizes that isn't going to help with keeping things uncomplicated.

"But last night?" Rachel continues "Last night I was _very_ good-looking. I had on my red dress, my good-looking dress. You took advantage."

Quinn's jaw drops in indignation, "I did not take –"but she's again cut off by Rachel.

"You want to take advantage again?" She asks, taking a step closer to Quinn, who in turn takes a step back until she's pressed against the railing of the stairs, trapped by Rachel's body, "Say Friday night?" she asks, her eyes dropping to Quinn's lips.

Quinn notices where Rachel's focus is, and subconsciously licks her lips, her resolve slowly wavering; she shakes her head, building back her resolve and answers with a very definite sounding "No!" but she can't help how her voice softens when she stares into those dark brown eyes "We're interns. We can't complicate things. I have a job to focus on and..." She loses her train of thought as she follows the brunette's eyes as they flick between Quinn's eyes and her lips "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" Rachel asks innocently.

"Like you've seen me naked!" Rachel just smirks at that and looks like she's about to open her mouth and say something but Quinn continues quickly "Dr. Berry! This is inappropriate. We're going to be working together. Has that ever occurred to you?" She doesn't even give Rachel a chance to answer as she leaves quickly.

"Wait a second!" Quinn turns back quickly making her way back to a confused yet still amused brunette in three strides. "If you're an intern how come I didn't see you at the mixer last night? Or this morning for the introductory session with the Chief?" she notices something flash through brown eyes but before she has a chance to question it Rachel's speaking.

"Dr. Schuester's an old friend of the family. When he found out I was accepted onto the program he offered me the chance to start a little earlier, working under him in order to gain a little insight into how the hospital works. I've really just been doing his post-ops for the past month. But I got to know the hospital pretty well so I didn't feel the need to attend the introductory session this morning. Plus Chief Sylvester kind of terrifies me, and I like to spend as little time around her as possible. And well...as for the mixer, I was going to go. But I um...I'm not so great with social occasions with large numbers of people. So I decided to have a few drinks at a bar to calm my nerves, and well then I met you and... I just never made it to the mixer in the end." She finishes with a firm nod of her head, content that she covered each of Quinn's questions sufficiently.

Quinn on her part just gapes at her for a few seconds, trying to take on that mother lode of information. "Well, okay then...Katie Bryce's parents have questions, can you go answer them or like get Dr. Schuester too?"

"Well, okay then." Rachel mocks, sending the blonde a filthy wink before brushing past her, back out to the corridor again. While Quinn just stands there blushing, and thinking how screwed she is.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Quinn walks up to the observation deck, to watch Sam perform his appendectomy. She takes a seat next to Santana on the front row.

"He's going to faint. He's a fainter." One of the interns behind her comments.

"Nah code brown. Right in his pants." Another sniggers.

"He's all about the flop sweat. He's going to sweat himself unsterile."

"10 bucks says he messes up the McBurney."

"10 says he cries." Comments Santana.

"Guys that's mean. That's one of us down there. The first one of us. Where's your loyalty?" Brittany says frowning sadly from her seat behind Quinn. All the interns stare at her for a beat, before Quinn pips up.

"50 says he pulls the whole thing off." She says smiling back at Brittany, showing her support, earning a grateful smile from the other blonde. Everyone's quite for a few moments.

"75 says he can't even I.D the appendix." Santana says slyly with a smirk. Quinn really can't do anything else but roll her eyes at the Latina. As Sam takes hold of the scalpel to begin the surgery the whole gallery cheer loudly for him.

The first half of the surgery goes great, and Quinn's relieved that the first intern to fly solo in surgery is actually pulling it off. She's excited at the prospect of it one day being her holding the scalpel in her hand and making her first cut. However she's abruptly brought out of her day dream by the monitors beeping from the operating theater as the patients BP starts to drop, and Sam panics, causing Dr. Martinez to push him to one side and take over the surgery. The whole observation deck sits silently. The realization of what they all have a head of them sinking in.

"007." a voice breaks through the silence. Quinn turns to the owner of the voice and is met with a tall, dark haired guy with a god awful Mohawk, smirking cockily and leaning against the wall.

"Yep, total 007" another intern agrees.

"What's 007 mean?" Brittany whispers, leaning forward to ask Quinn.

Quinn looks down glumly at the operating theater, "License to kill."

* * *

By hour 19 of her shift Quinn finds herself sitting with Santana, Brittany and Sam in a deserted hallway in the basement of the hospital, with spare hospital beds lining the walls.

"They're calling me 007 aren't they?" Sam asks despondently.

Brittany reaches over and pats his head, but all 3 girls choose to remain silent instead of telling him the truth.

"I was in the elevator, Murphy whispered 007 and everyone laughed." Sam continues.

Santana stands up and paces in front of them "Oh how many times do we have to go through this Trouty? Five? Ten? Give me a number. Otherwise I'm gonna hit you." She glares threateningly at the blonde boy.

He wisely chooses to keep his mouth shut, but as soon as the brunette looks away he whispers "He called me 007 and everyone laughed."

Brittany smiles sympathetically at him, "He wasn't talking about you."

"Are you sure?" Sam asks hopefully.

"Would we lie to you?" Quinn asks.

"We'll I've only known you for like 19 hours, so maybe?" is Sam's reply.

"007 is a state of mind." Santana makes an attempt at being compassionate.

"Says the girl who finished first in her class at Stanford." Sam responds.

The conversations interrupted by the sound of a pager. Each intern checks their own quickly before looking up to see whose it is. Quinn is sat staring at her pager for a few seconds, "Oh man. It's 911 for Katie Bryce." she looks up at her friends, with slightly panicked eyes. "I have to go!" she says as she jumps up and runs towards Katie's room.

"Maybe I should have gone into geriatrics. No one minds when you kill an old person." Sam muses as he watches Quinn run off.

Santana walks back to the hospital bed and plops herself down. "Oh shut up. Surgery is hot. It's the marines. It's macho. It's hostile. It's hardcore. Geriatrics is for freaks that live with their mothers and never have sex."

Sam stands up and begins to walk off, quietly muttering to himself, "I've got to get my own place."

* * *

Quinn can't remember the last time she's ran so fast, as she barges through the door to Katie Bryce's room. However instead of seeing a bed surrounded by nurses and doctors trying to revive a patient or stop a seizure, she's met with Katie sitting in her bed, magazine in hand looking bored, but completely alive and well.

"Took you long enough"

"You're okay? The nurse pages me 911"

"Yea I had to go like all exorcist on her to get her to pick up the phone." Katie says looking slightly smug that her plan worked.

"So there's nothing wrong with you?"

"I'm bored."

"You little..." Quinn starts, but takes a deep breath through her nose, counting back from 10 to control her temper. "I'm a doctor. Not a cruise director." she eventually grits out.

"You don't have to wig out. Look the pageants suppose to be on cable, but this crappy hospital doesn't get the channel. If that cow Kylie Wood is gonna walk off with _my _crown, I have to see it. Can you like call someone?"

"No!" Quinn says exasperated. "This is an actual hospital. Full of sick people. Go to sleep and stop wasting my damn time."

"But I can't sleep. My head's all full." Katie pouts, not seeming to have taken on board anything Quinn had to say.

"It's called thinking. Go with it." Quinn suggests before walking out of the room, to take care of her other patients.

* * *

While Quinn's standing at the nurse's station in the surgical ward, going through each of her patients files, making sure all her paper work is correct, she hears the familiar cocky tone of the guy with the Mohawk from earlier.

"4B's got post-op pneumonia. Let's start antibiotics."

"Are you sure that's the right diagnosis?" the nurse asks the intern.

"Gee I don't know, I mean I'm only an intern. Here's an idea, why don't you go and spend four years at med school and let me know if it's the right diagnosis. She's short of breath, she's got a fever, she's post-op. Start the antibiotics." He says abruptly turning and walking over to the desk Quinn's currently working on. "God I hate nurses. I'm Puck by the way. I'm with Jeremy, you're with the Nazi, right?" he asks leering at Quinn.

Quinn ignores his leering, "She may not have pneumonia, you know? She could be splinting or have a PE.

"Like I said, I hate nurses." Puck replies with a scowl, just as Sam joins them.

Quinn is about to respond when her pager starts to beep again, she looks at it quickly, seeing it's another 911 for Katie Bryce, sighing in frustration. "Damnit, Katie..." she says to herself as she starts to walk to Katie's room, after one last glare in Puck's direction, she doesn't bother to run this time, assuming it's the girl wanting some cure for her boredom.

Puck watches her leave, before turning to Sam, "She seeing anybody?"

Sam looks like a deer caught in headlights before replying "I don't know."

"She's hot." Puck replies with a smirk on his face.

Thinking this maybe a chance to actually bond with one of the other male interns starts to talk, "I'm friends with her. I mean, kinda friends. I mean, not, you know, actually friends, not exactly, but we're tight. We hang out. I mean, really only just today -"

"Dude. Stop talking." Puck interrupts him, unimpressed.

* * *

As Quinn's walking up the stairs towards Katie's room, trying to think what else the kid could possible want, she see's nurses and other hospital personnel rushing in and out of Katie's room. Her face pales, as she realizes this is an actual 911 call, she rushes into the room to find the girl in the midst of a violent seizure.

One of the nurses turn to her "What took you so long?"

Another nurse is simultaneously filling her in on Katie's condition as she stands frozen on the spot. She looks around bewildered; this is not what she had been expecting when she got the page. But it's been what she's been preparing for all through med school. Being the doctor in charge. She takes a deep breath and composes herself, turning to the nurse closest to her. "She's full on Lorazapan?"

The nurses nods, "She's had 4mg."

"Have you paged Dr. Bestie and Dr. Schuester?" She asks as she moves over next to the bed, the nurse again nodding her head to confirm.

The second nurse in the room turns to her, "The Lorazapan's not working"

"Um..." she stalls, quickly running through all the possible medications in her head, "Phenobarbital! Load her with Phenobarbital." she orders.

"Pheno's in" the nurse states looking up to check the monitors "Still no change."

Her heart is racing, and her brain is working even faster, she can't find any one thought to focus on that might help this girl. She hears the voices of all the staff around her asking her what to do; she's so overwhelmed, praying for some kind of guidance. Just then Katie suddenly goes still. Quinn's about to feel relieved by that, until the continuous beep of the heart monitor alerts her to the fact Katie's flat-lining.

"Code blue! Code blue!" one of the nurses shouts, as they reach for the defibrillator. Quinn takes a hold of the paddles. She can do this. She knows the protocol.

"Charge pulse of two hundred." she orders. When she gets the confirmation of the charge she asks everyone to clear, and presses the defibrillator to Katie's chest. Pausing to look the monitors. No change. "Charge again. To 300." Again pressing them to her patient's chest. Still no change. "Charge to 360!" she shouts to the nurse, "Come on, Katie." she pleads quietly with the girl, but she's still flat-lining. "Charge again!" Quinn calls.

The nurse seems reluctant to do so, "At 60 seconds you're suppose to -"

"Charge again!" Quinn barks. Finally the nurse does so. Quinn shocks her once again. "Anything?" she asks the nurse standing by the heart monitor.

"I see sinus rhythm."

"BP's coming up." another nurse states. Quinn breaths a quiet sigh of relief. The relief is short lived when an older man with curly, perfectly styled hair comes rushing in. Dr. Schuester she presumes.

_Better late than never_.

"What the hell happened?" He asks the room.

"She had a seizure and her heart stopped." Quinn informs him. The adrenaline from the code blue is quickly working off and she's starting to feel a little light headed and has a sudden urge to throw up.

"You were supposed to be monitoring her." he shouts at her.

"I checked on her and she-" she begins to argue before quickly being cut off.

"I got it. Just...just go." he replies stonily.

She wants to say something else to defend herself, but she's slightly worried if she opens her mouth right now she'll throw up, and that really isn't something she wants to happen in a room full of people. So she stumbles out of the room, brushing past a concerned looking Rachel, down the corridor past a disgruntled Dr. Bestie who's already giving her a lecture about not paging her quickly enough, and makes her way outside of the hospital through one of the side doors.

It's pouring with rain but she doesn't care because the cold rain feels wonderful against her overheated skin but it doesn't stop the bile finally rising up her throat as she throws up on a bush. As she coughs and heaves she feels a gentle hand on her back, and turns to see the dark brown eyes she's quickly becoming accustomed to seeing, looking at her with an understanding expression.

"Your first code blue is always the most terrifying." Rachel smiles sympathetically at Quinn. "But hey, at least you kept your patient alive, that's always something."

All Quinn wants to do right now, is just stay with Rachel and soak up the comfort from the brunette, because it just feels so right and perfect. But she can't- she just _can't_ - she has so much going on she can't let her life become any more complicated. So she does what she was always taught. She sighs heavily. Straightens herself up. Takes a deep breath, and lets the facade of indifference wash over her and looks to Rachel, "If you tell anyone, ever..."

Rachel backs off, sensing Quinn doesn't exactly want the comfort right now, nodding her head, "It's just between us, okay?"

Quinn opens her mouth to say thank you, but her pride doesn't allow it. So she just nods at the brunette before moving past her to go back inside.

* * *

By hour 24 of their shift the interns are all called into one of the board rooms, well more accurately they were ordered to go sit there by their residents, and given no other information about it.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asks Santana.

"I'm suturing a banana, with a vain hope that it wakes up my brain." She replies, not stopping the movements of her hands. She pauses when she hears Sam laugh, "What're you smiling at, 007?" Sam stops laughing abruptly and looks forlorn. Brittany subtly kicks Santana on the shin, indicating to be nice. She sighs heavily before looking over at Sam. "I'm sorry. I get mean when I'm tired."

"You know what? I don't care. I comforted a scared family today. And I got to hang out in the OR. All is well." He says smiling.

Santana just rolls her eyes at him, "Does anyone know why we're here?"

As soon as she asks the question, Dr. Schuester walks in with Rachel following close behind, with a huge stack of files in her arms. She sets them down onto the table, sending a small smile Quinn's way.

Dr. Schuester stands at the front of the room, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. "I'm going to do something pretty rare for a surgeon. I'm going to ask interns for help. I've got this kid, Katie Bryce. Right now, she's a mystery. She doesn't respond to her meds, labs are all clean, scans are pure. But she's having seizures, Grand Mal seizures with no visible cause. She's a ticking clock. She's going to die, if I don't make a diagnosis. This is where you come in. I can't do it alone. I need your extra minds, extra eyes, I need you to play detective, I need to find out why Katie is having seizures. I know you're tired, you're busy, you've got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand." He says giving them a sympathetic smile. "So, I'm giving you an incentive. Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Katie needs surgery. You get to scrub in to assist on an advance procedure. Dr. Berry's going to hand you a copy of Katie's chart. The clock is ticking fast, people. If we're going to save Katie's life, we have to do it soon."

Rachel starts handing the charts out one by one, until only Quinn and Santana are left in the room, the Latina snatches her copy from Rachel's hand and begins reading it quickly, as the shorter brunette holds the last one out to Quinn, "Best till last." She whispers, smirking at the blonde before tuning and leaving.

Quinn on her part had ducked her head to hide the smile and blush that had appeared on her cheeks, and when she looks up she's met with a raised eyebrow from Santana, "What the fuck was that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about" she answers innocently.

"The little midget being all flirty flirty with you, that's what I'm talking about." But Quinn just shakes her head and ignores her, rushing out of the room.

* * *

A little later Quinn's back standing at one of the nurse's station on the surgical ward. And for the second time that day she overhears the obnoxious voice of Puck.

"Give the antibiotics time to work."

"They should've worked by now." The nurse replies in an annoyed tone.

"She's old. She's friggin' ancient. She's lucky she's still breathing. I have a shot at scrubbing in downstairs, with a patient who wasn't alive during the civil war. Don't page me again!" He shouts before storming out of the ward.

Quinn knows something is up with that patient, that Puck has potentially gotten the wrong diagnosis, she's about to go read over the women's chat when Santana comes sliding up next to her.

"Hey, I want in on Schuester's surgery. You've been the intern on Katie since the start. You want to work together? We find the answer; we have a fifty-fifty chance of scrubbing in."

"I'll work with you, but I don't want in on the surgery. You can have it."

Santana scowls at the blonde, "Are you kidding me? It's the biggest opportunity any intern will ever get...wait it's something to do with that Berry chick isn't it?"

"If we find the answer, the surgery's yours. Do you want to work together or not?" Quinn asks in a bored tone.

Santana just grins and nods her head, "Deal."

They head to the library together. But after some research they find themselves slumped against one of the bookshelves, with a list of things crossed off their list, but no closer to an answer.

"Well, she doesn't have anoxia, chronic renal failure, or acidosis. It's not a tumor because her CT's clean." She sighs heavily, lolling her head to face Quinn, "Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won't work with Berry?"

"No." Quinn answers firmly, determined to stay focused on her work. "What about infection?"

Santana flips through Katie's file in front of her, "No. There's no white count, she has no CT lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap...Just tell me."

Quinn looks at the brunette, staring hard, she figures there's no way out of this. Santana's just going to keep asking, so she might as well share. "You can't comment, make a face, or react in any way." She waits until she sees the brunette nod her consent. "We had sex."

Santana opens her mouth and closes it a few times, before mashing her lips together to stop her from laughing. "What about an aneurysm?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No blood on the CT, and no headaches."

"Okay There's no drug use, uh, no pregnancy, no trauma...was she good? I mean...she doesn't look like she would be, I mean seriously Quinn the girl was wearing crocs."

Quinn ignores the jib, keeping her focus on her patient. Standing up to return one of the journals she had been shifting through. "What are the answers?" She asks turning back to Santana "What if no one comes up with anything?" Taking a seat in front of her.

"You mean if she dies?"

"Yeah"

Santana pauses for a minute contemplating her answer, "This is gonna sound really bad, but I really wanted that surgery."

Quinn snorts at Santana's answer before turning serious again. "She's just never going to get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be almost winning Miss Teen whatever...You know what her pageant talent is?"

"They have talent?" Santana deadpans.

"Rhythmic gymnastics." They both laugh for a few moments, "I mean what is rhythmic gymnastics? I don't know - I can barely even say it."

Santana laughs a few more moments, "Isn't it like something with a ball, and a -" She notices a sudden change in Quinn's expression, "...What? Quinn, what?" she asks as Quinn starts to stand.

"Get up! Come on!" she urges the brunette.

They run off in search for Dr. Schuester, Quinn filling in Santana on her theory on the journey. They find Dr. Schuester climbing onto the elevator, and rush over to him before the doors close.

"Oh oh Dr. Schuester. Just one moment um...Katie competes in beauty pageants." Santana begins.

"I know that but we have to save her life anyway." Dr. Schuester jokes.

"Okay..." Santana continues, "She has no headaches, no neck pain, her CTs clean..." Dr. Schuester looks around at the other people on the elevator, smiling apologetically to them as the doors beginning to close, Santana placing her hand on them to keep them open, as she continues. "Ah...there's no medical proof of an aneurysm. But what If she has an aneurysm anyway?"

"There are no indicators" Dr. Schuester says with a shake of the head.

"Ah but she twisted her ankle, a few weeks ago when she was practicing" She again places her hands against the doors to stop them from closing, "for the pageant – "

"Look, I appreciate you're trying to help, but – "

"She fell!" Quinn interrupts, "When she twisted her ankle, she fell."

"It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head, you know she got right back up, iced her ankle and everything was fine, it was a fall so minor her doctor didn't even think to mention it when I was taking her history" yet again halting the door from closing "but she did fall." Santana stresses.

"Well you know the chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm, one in a million. Literally." Dr. Schuester explains as the elevator doors are finally allowed to close. Santana and Quinn share a disappointed look before turning away. Just as the elevator doors re-open and Dr. Schuester steps out.

"Let's go" he says to them

"Where?" Quinn asks.

"To find out if Katie's one in a million." He says as he walks off, the two interns falling quickly behind.

An hour later the three of them are huddled around a small computer monitor watching as the CT results come through.

"I'll be damned." Dr. Schuester breaths out as he spots the small bleed in her brain. Pointing it out on the screen for the two girls. "She could have gone her whole life without it being a problem. One tap in the right spot and...You two did great work. I'd love to stay and kiss you asses but I have to go tell Katie's parents she's having surgery. I'm sorry I can't take you both, but it's going to be a full house. Quinn congratulations. "He says with a smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Dr. Berry's told me great things about you. I'll see you in the OR."

Quinn just stands there shocked, as Santana looks at her clearly angry and upset, and waiting for her to decline the offer. But Quinn's too caught up on the fact Dr. Berry's been talking about her to the attending. When Quinn doesn't decline the offer Santana turns and stalks off in the opposite direction.

"Santana!" Quinn calls after her but the Latina doesn't turn around. She breaths out a frustrated sigh, before deciding to give Santana some time to cool off before trying to talk to her again.

* * *

Santana's went to the deserted hallway that their group of interns seem to spend half their time. She's sitting next to Brittany, and toying with her bottle of water, from the corner of her eye she sees the bubbly blonde open her mouth to speak "Brittany..." she says in a warning tone. The blonde closes her mouth again quickly, deciding to keep quiet.

For a couple of seconds anyway. "Maybe Quinn couldn't – "

"Brittany!"

Just then Quinn comes to join them, standing by the entrance, "I'll tell him I changed my mind. You can –"she starts, but is interrupted by an angry Latina.

"No, no. Don't do me any favors, it's fine."

"Santana – "

"You know what, you did a cutthroat thing, deal with it. Don't come to me for absolution, you want to be a shark, be a shark." Santana states coldly.

Clearly hurt by that Quinn begins to protest "I'm not – "

"Oh yes you are! Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm and gooey places. No. Screw you. I didn't get picked for surgeries because I slept with my boss's favorite little lap dog, and I didn't get into med school because I have a famous mother. You know some of us actually have to earn what we get." Santana hisses out.

Okay so that hurt. She looks to Santana who's now avoiding her gaze, to Brittany who seems saddened by the argument. Before turning on her heel and storming away from them.

She walks the whole way to Katie Bryce's room, determined to ignore the argument with Santana and focus on prepping the teenager for her surgery. She stalls as she reaches the door of Katie's room, where she finds Rachel perched on a stool by the young girls head, shaving her head in preparation for the surgery.

The brunettes eyes are concentrating intently on the job at hand, as she gently smooths over the girls hair before running the razor though it. Quinn leans against the door way, already feeling herself calm just from the mere presence of the brunette. Rachel's eyes flicker up a few moments later and she smiles when she spots Quinn. "I promised I'd make her look cool. Apparently being a bald beauty queen is like the worst thing that ever happened in the history of the world." She laughs lightly, switching off the clippers and giving Quinn her full attention "I hear you're scrubbing in on the surgery, congratulations."

"Dr. Schuester said he'd heard a lot of good things about me...from you. Is that the only reason I got picked for the surgery? Like if it'd been Santana who'd slept with you would it be her who was picked?"

"Yes." Rachel says seriously, before laughing a split second later at the look of shock on Quinn's face. "I'm kidding. Jeeze. What kind of power do you think I have around here?"

"I'm not going to scrub in for surgery. You should tell Dr. Schuester to ask Santana. She really wants it." Quinn says sternly.

"You're Katie's doctor." Rachel reasons "On your fist day, with very little training you helped save her life. You earned the right to follow her case through to the finish." She shakes her head as she looks up at Quinn. "You shouldn't let the fact we had sex get in the way of you taking your shot. An extremely well earned shot at that." the brunette says seriously.

By the end of her rant Quinn's smiling softly. Deep down she knows Rachel's right, it's just what Santana said had her doubting everything, that maybe she was only getting her shot at Seattle Grace because of who her mother is.

* * *

By hour 35 of her shift she's sat on a window ledge outside of the hospital next to Sam, both looking pensive. "I wish I wanted to be a chef. Or a ski instructor. Maybe even a kinder garden teacher." Quinn muses.

"You know I would've been a really good postal worker. I'm dependable." He can't help but smile when he gets a laugh from the blonde next to him. "You know my parents tell everyone they meet that their son's a surgeon. As if it's a big accomplishment. A superhero or something...if they could see me now." He finishes dejectedly.

Quinn smiles sadly at him, "When I told my mother I wanted to go to medical school, she tried to talk me out of it. Said I didn't have what it takes to be a surgeon. That I'd never make it. So the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good."

"We're going to survive this, right?"

Quinn doesn't answer, because honestly she doesn't know herself. Instead she just gives Sam a reassuring pat on the knee as she jumps down from the ledge and makes her way back to the hospital.

She goes straight up to the surgical wing, to finish up her paper work, and check on her patients one last time before she's due to scrub in. She's standing at the nurses' station, and can't help but look on as Chief Sue discusses the patient she was worried about earlier with Puck.

"She's still short of breath. Did you get an ABG or a chest film?" Sue asks the mohawked intern.

"Ah yes Ma'am I did." He replies, clearly proud of himself.

"And what did you see?" she asks. His smile falters slightly when he realizes he didn't actually check, he just ordered them.

"Well...uh you see, I had a lot of patients last – "

Chief Sylvester interrupts him, "Name the common causes of post-op fever."

"Uh it's just..." Puck goes to reach to his pocket for the small notebook each intern was given at the start of the day.

"From your head. Not from a book. Don't look it up. Learn it. It should be in your head. Name the common causes of post-op fever." She says again.

"Uh...the...um the common causes of post-op..." Puck stutters and stalls before being interrupted again by Chief Sylvester, as she calls out loudly.

"Can anybody name the common causes of post-op fever?" the ward goes quiet, each of the interns going to their pockets to consult their notebooks.

Quinn smiles to herself because she totally knows this. "Wind, water, wound, walking, wonder drugs. The five W's. Most of the time it's wind, splinting or pneumonia. Pneumonia is easy to assume, especially if you're too busy to do the tests." She sends a knowing look towards Puck as she finishes.

Chief Sylvester turns to Puck and gives him a pointed look of her own, before turning back to Quinn. "What do you think is wrong with 4B?" she asks, arms crossed against her chest.

"The fourth W, walking. I think she's a prime candidate for a pulmonary embolus."

"And how would you diagnose?"

Quinn takes a deep breath, because suddenly what Santana said about her only getting anywhere because of her mother doesn't hurt so much anymore. She knows this stuff. She's earned her place her regardless of what anyone says. "Spiral CT, VQ scan, provide o2, dose with Heparin, and consult for an IVC filter."

The curt nod of the head is the only direct acknowledgment she receives from Chief Sylvester, before she turns to Puck, who's pretty much glaring at Quinn. "Do exactly as she says. Then tell your resident that I want you off this case." She finishes sternly, turning back to Quinn with a small smile. "I'd know you anywhere. You're the spitting image of your mother. Welcome to the gang." She says as she walks passed a very please looking Quinn.

_**I can't think of any one reason why I want to be a surgeon. But I can think of a thousand reasons why I should quit.**_

_**They make it hard on purpose. There are lives in our hands.**_

_**There comes a moment when it's more than just a game. And you either take that step forward, or turn around and walk away. I could quit. But here's the thing: I love the playing field.**_

Quinn walks out of the OR room in a daze, stripping off her scrub cap and collapsing down onto one of the chairs outside. She literally can't wipe the grin from her face, because that was literally one of the greatest experiences of her life. Just being in the room while someone's life was being saved. Seeing the control and concentration on Dr. Schuester's face as he located the aneurysm, and as Rachel stepped back from her position to allow Quinn a better one, the gleam in her eye letting Quinn know that she knew exactly what the blonde was feeling in that moment. Watching closely as Dr. Schuester dealt with the aneurysm she couldn't help but think to herself. .._This is it. _Regardless of how lost and out of her dept she felt half of the day, this right now I the reason she was here, to get experiences just like this.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Santana flopping down in the seat next to her, "It was a good surgery." the Latina states.

"Yeah" Quinn replies curtly.

"We don't have to do that thing, you know where I say something and then you say something and then somebody cries and there's like ...a moment..."

"Yuck" Quinn says scrunching up her face in disgust.

"Good." Santana breaths out, clearly relieved. "You should get some sleep. You look like crap."

Quinn can't help but laugh, pleased that she and Santana seem to be on the same page. And still have a brewing friendship "I look better than you."

"Not even possible" Santana whispers with a smirk, before getting up to leave.

After she leaves, Dr. Schuester walks out, closely followed by Rachel, as he gives her instructions on the after-care procedures for Katie. He walks away leaving Rachel by the nurse's station, finishing up the notes.

"That was amazing." Quinn says to her.

Rachel turns to look at her, nodding and smiling broadly, "It really was, wasn't it?"

"You practice on cadavers. You observe. And you think you know what you're going to feel like standing over that table, but..." She trails off, getting lost in her thoughts ..."that was such a high. I don't know why anybody does drugs." She says smiling lightly at the brunette, a dazed look still on her face.

"Yeah." Rachel nods slightly, looking tired.

"Yeah." Quinn repeats, smiling shyly.

Rachel smiles back at her, "I should ah...go finish this up." She says regretfully, not wanting to leave the blondes company.

"You should."

Rachel goes to leave, looking back to Quinn, "I'll see you around?"

Quinn nods, "See you around." She watches the brunette as she walks away, mumbling a soft "see ya" to the retreating figure. _so screwed._

* * *

"So, I made it through my first shift. We all did. The other interns are all good people, you'd like them. I think. I don't know. Maybe. I like them. Oh, and I changed my mind. I'm not going to sell the house." The other, older blonde she's sitting with looks up at this piece of news. "I'm going to keep it. I'll have to get a few room-mates, but...its home, you know?" she finishes off, smiling slightly.

"Are you the doctor?" the woman asks quietly.

Quinn's smile falters slightly, "No. I'm not your doctor. But I am a doctor."

Looking Quinn up and down she asks, "What's your name?"

"It's me, mom. Quinn."

"All right." The older blonde replies, not recognizing her, and begins to fidget with her watch. "I used to be a doctor. I think."

Quinn reaches out, placing her hand over the older women's, stilling her movements and causing her to make eye contact with her daughters hazel eyes. "You were a doctor mom. You were a surgeon."


	2. The First Cut Is the Deepest

Hey :) Hope you're all well.

Thanks for everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter, hopefully I don't let you all down with chapter 2.

Any questions feel free to PM me or you can fine me over on tumblr. (hopematters-x)

* * *

_**It's all about lines. The finish line at the end of residency, waiting in line for a chance at the operating table, and then, there's the most important line. The line separating you from the people you work with. It doesn't help to get to familiar. To make friends. You need boundaries between you and the rest of the world. Other people are far too messy. It's all about lines. Drawing lines in the sand, and praying like hell no on crosses them.**_

"Look I'm sure you're very nice, but I'm very particular about who lives in my house. And you're just not right." Quinn says gently, trying to not be rude, but it's hard when she's had random people she doesn't know coming up to her all shift asking to move in with her. And she's only been in work an hour! Sure they're just replying to the advertisement she posted on the notice board, but they just aren't right. This girl for example isn't even an intern, she's like...a nurse or something, Quinn isn't really sure, and she looks about 12.

"Why?...Look I'm quiet. No loud music. No parties." The girl says.

"Where were you when Obama was first elected?" Quinn asks.

"Who?" she asks perplexed.

"Former President Obama." _Who? Seriously? It was like a stand out moment in history._

"Uh...I think I was in elementary school." She replies.

"Exactly. No." Quinn says sternly hoping to end the conversation. Which it thankfully does as the young...nurse stands up and leaves quite abruptly.

Sam and Brittany make their way to Quinn, sitting either side of her, as they watch the young hospital worker walk away.

"Why did you put up a poster for roommates if you don't want a roommate?" Brittany asks confused, because she, along with Sam have also been asking to move in with Quinn.

"I do want roommates, but we're together 100 hours a week; you really want to live together too?" she asks rhetorically. Standing up and lifting the spare coffee cup from the table.

Santana walks over to join them, spotting that Quinn has 2 coffees. "Oh I see you bring bribes now, huh?" She jokes.

"My mum still irons my scrubs. I have to get out of there." Sam complains to Quinn.

Quinn turns quickly to Santana, "It's not a bribe." Before turning her attention to Sam, smiling sympathetically, "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Look I can put down last, first and deposits – "

"It's totally a bribe." Santana interrupts, looking at Quinn.

"I can cook. And bake. And I'm an obsessive cleaner." Brittany smiles at Quinn.

"No." Quinn says exhaustedly, not even two hours into her shift and she's already tired of talking to people. "I just want two total strangers, who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to. And it's not a bribe, it's just a mocha latte." She finishes sending a pointed look to Santana, before making her way towards Dr, Beiste.

"Sam, you're running the code team, Quinn, take the trauma patients, Santana, deliver the weekend labs to the patients and Brittany, you're on sutures." Dr. Beiste rhymes off, barely looking up to acknowledge the interns, as she moves to leave.

Quinn steps into her path, "Dr. Beiste. I was hoping to assist you in the OR today, maybe do a minor procedure? I think I'm ready. Mocha Latte?" she asks holding out the coffee cup for the resident, with a smile.

Dr. Beiste just looks down at Quinn, opening her mouth to speak just as Santana pipes up, "If she gets to cut I want to cut too."

"Oh! Me too!" Smiles Brittany enthusiastically.

"Well I wouldn't mind another shot. I mean if everyone else is." Sam mumbles as he takes a bite of his apple.

"Stop talking." Dr. Beiste orders. "Every intern wants to perform their first surgery, that's not your job. Do you know what your job is?" She pauses for just a second, but not long enough to give any of them a chance to respond, "Your job is to make your resident happy. Do I look happy? No. Why? Because my interns are whining. You know what will make me happy?" She looks at Sam. "Having the code team staffed." Then turns her attention to Quinn, "Having the trauma pages answered." Before looking to Santana, "Having the weekend labs delivered" and finally she looks to Brittany, "And having someone in the pit doing sutures!" she finishes, taking the mocha latte from Quinn's hands and turning to walk up the stairs, throwing. "No one holds a scalpel until I'm so happy I'm Mary freakin' Poppins." Over her shoulder towards her interns.

Santana narrows her eyes as she turns to Quinn, "Just a Mocha Latte my ass."

"Why you all standing there? Move!" Dr. Beiste yells from the top of the stairs. Watching with a satisfied smirk as they all scurry off in different directions.

Quinn heads towards the nurse's station, picking up her stack of case files that need filling in, before making her way to the elevators, not noticing Rachel standing texting on her cell phone, until the last-minute. She had spent the whole weekend wondering how to handle the situation, and the only thing she could come up with was ignore the brunette and hope she loses interest. So she turns her back on Rachel, standing in front of her and waits on the elevator to arrive.

When Rachel does finally look up from her phone she smiles, recognising the blonde in front of her immediately. "Seattle has ferry boats." She muses to Quinn's back.

Considering the brunette can't see her, Quinn doesn't attempt to hide her smile at hearing Rachel's voice, "Yes." Is all she replies.

"I didn't know that. I've been living here six weeks and I didn't know there were ferry boats."

Quinn squints slightly in confusion because well..."Seattle's surrounded by water on three sides."

"Hence the ferry boats" Rachel adds, looking back down to her phone as the elevator doors open. "Now I have to like it here. I wasn't planning on liking it here." She continues, as Quinn still refuses to turn around; instead she walks into the elevator. "I'm from New York. I'm genetically engineered to dislike everywhere, except for Manhattan...and Broadway of course." Walking in behind Quinn as they each press the button to the floor they're heading. Quinn going to the furthest corner of the empty elevator, Rachel just smiles and turns to face the doors, standing in front of the blonde, "But I have a thing for ferry boats." She admits softly.

Quinn smiles and shakes her head, incredibly charmed by the brunette, as the elevator doors slide shut. There are a few moments of silence, causing Quinn to shift uncomfortably, deciding to fill the silence, just to make herself crystal clear. "I'm not going to go out with you." She states haughtily.

Rachel smirks to herself, "Did I ask you to go out with me?" she turns her head to look at Quinn, raising an eyebrow at her, "Do you want to go out with me?" she asks with a smile turning back to the front of the elevator.

Quinn shifts awkwardly because the first answer that came into her head was a loud _YES!_ But no. No! She has a plan. No complications. She stands up straight, hugging the folders closer to her chest. "I'm not dating. And I'm definitely not sleeping with you again. We work together."

Rachel huffs out a small laugh turning he head slightly to catch Quinn's eyes, "From what I remember we do indeed work together, very well in fact." She husks out in a tone than sends shivers down Quinn's spine.

The blonde shakes her head, clearing her mind of _those _thoughts, "You're sexually harassing me!" she exclaims exasperated.

"I'm riding an elevator." Rachel deadpans, because seriously? This girl is ridiculous. They aren't even looking at each other and she's apparent sexually harassing her?

Quinn rolls her eyes at herself, because yea that was unreasonable. "Look, I'm drawing a line. This is the line drawn. There's a big line." She states with finality.

Rachel pauses, tilting her head, pondering this 'line' that's been drawn and she can't resist pushing the blonde's buttons some more. "So this line..."She starts off slowly, "Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?" she says as she turns her whole body to face Quinn, smirking slightly, her brown eyes sparkling with mirth.

They stare at one another for a few moments. Their eyes locked in a heated gaze before Quinn just thinks - _fuck it_ – dropping the files as she surges forward connecting her lips with the plump ones which have been teasing her, pinning a surprised Rachel to the wall of the elevator. Despite the initial surprise Rachel begins kissing her back pretty fast. Wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist and pulling her body closer, as she deepens the kiss almost instantly, their tongues brushing against one an others over and over, the blonde fisting her hands in Rachel's loose curls while they kiss passionately right up until the elevator dings to indicated it's reached the requested floor.

Quinn pulls back from the kiss abruptly, cursing herself in her head because this was so _not_ part of her plan. She looks quickly at Rachel who just looks incredibly smug, if slightly dazed, before kneeling down quickly to collect the files strewn across the floor standing up just in time for the doors to slide open and leaving quickly without as much as a second glance at the brunette.

Rachel finally shakes herself out of her daze as she watches the blonde leave, "We'll talk later?" she calls after her smiling broadly.

* * *

_Idiot, idiot, idiot. What happened to focusing on completing the internship? Or focusing your remaining energy on your mother? That was the plan. Internship. Mother. NOT! How good Rachel Berry's lips feel against yours. _Quinn chastises herself as she fills in the charts sitting at one of the nurse's stations._ Dating someone you work with will never work out. If you give in she'll get bored. Then you have to spend the next two years in the awkward situation of working with her. So no. No more. That was the last time. _Her inner monologue is cut short where her pager goes off. She checks it quickly seeing it's the ER, and rushes downstairs.

A trauma nurse meets her at the door of one of the trauma rooms, "You the Surgeon?" She asks Quinn. When the blonde nods in confirmation the nurse continues to give her a run down as they enter the room. "We've got a rape victim. 21 year-old female found at the park. Status; post-trauma, she came in with a GCS of 6, BP 80 over 60, head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated, and she's ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?"

Except she can't answer, she's shocked by the condition of the girl on the bed, as she looks around the room taking everything in, she sees the girls clothes being piled up ready to be taken away for the police and she spots the girls shoes. Which just happen to be the same leopard print pair she wore to work this morning. And it's weird, that on the day she decides to wear those specific shoes she has a patient admitted, who's suffered some horrific trauma, and has on the same shoes. It is weird, right?

"Hey!" she's pulled from her thoughts by the ER doctor shouting to get her attention.

"Yeah" Quinn nods, "Yeah read to roll." She finally answers. She quickly pulls out her penlight to check the girl's pupils. "Call ahead to clear CT. Let them know I'm coming. Load up the portable monitor. And call respiratory for a ventilator, I'll get x-rays while I'm down there." She orders the other staff in the room.

She's allowed to scrub in on the surgery of the rape victim, and usually she would feel excited by that, but the fact this girl had the same shoes as her is still bugging her and she feels slight uneasy.

"She's going to spend a hell of a lot of time in recovery and rehab." Dr. Scheuster states sadly.

"If she survives." Dr. Martinez replies.

"What is she, like 5ft2? 100 pounds? She's still breathing after what this guy did to her? He should be castrated if they catch him." Dr. Scheuster replies angrily.

"She how shredded her hands are. She tried to fight back." Dr. Martinez says with an almost prideful tone at how strong the girl was.

"Tried to? Rape kit came back negative. She kicked his ass."

"So, we have a warrior among us, huh?" Dr. Martinez replies, looking around the OR.

"Allison." Quinn murmurs quietly. "Her...her name is Allison."

The two surgeons look to her and acknowledge the blonde. "I think I may have found the cause of our rupture" Dr. Martinez says as he pulls out a foreign body from the girl, studying it closely. "What is this?" he asks as he looks at it, "Does anyone know what this is?"

Quinn starts at it intently for a while trying to work out what it is, it looks like flesh...it almost looks like..."Oh my God" she murmurs, eyes widening in realization.

"What? Spit it out Fabray?" Dr. Martinez says impatiently, and curiously.

"She bit it off." Quinn states in awe.

"Bit off what?" Martinez asks confused.

"That's his..." she points at the flesh still being help in the forceps in Dr. Martinez hand, "his penis." As soon as she says it all the men in the room pale, and groan as they take a closer look. "She bit off his penis." Smiling in wonder as Dr. Martinez throws it into the surgical pan as fast as he can.

* * *

Because the universe seems to hate her, it ends up Quinn is the one placed in charge of the penis. After it was discovered in surgery it was placed in a small red and white cooler, and Quinn gets the privilege of delivering the damn thing to the Chief. She knocks on the Chief's door, and enters when a red haired women with wide eyes motions for her to do so.

"Hi, is the Chief in?"

The red head nods, "She's just on her way." Biting on her lip and looking at the cooler she asks nervously, "Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see it?" she asks, sounding unsure. Quinn looks down at the cooler in her hand and then back at the women in shock, but before she can reply the red-head quickly says "No...No forget I asked." Before turning back to her paperwork. Thankfully just in that moment Chief Sylvester enters the room.

"Quinn" she greets her. "It's good to see you." She says as she squeezes Quinn's arm as she walks by her, taking a seat behind the large oak desk. "I heard your mother was leaving Mao? She going back to the U.N.?

The question stuns Quinn for a moment, she doesn't want to outright lie to her boss, but she also doesn't want to have this conversation with a penis in her possession. So she decides to go for a half-truth, "She's ah...taking time off."

Chief Sylvester sits back in her chair, her elbows resting on each arm, pressing her fingers together by her chin. "Writing another book I suppose." She says with a small smile.

Quinn just nods slightly, desperate to change the direction of the conversation, "So listen, they said to bring this" She holds up the cooler "to you, so...?"

The Chiefs face turns stoney as she looks to the cooler. "Yes, ah that's for the police." She turns to her secretary, "Emma, when did the police say they'll come?"

"You know how slow they are, so she had better take it with her." She replies looking at Sue.

Quinn has just disposed of the penis on a nearby table, thinking she would be free from it, so when she hears Emma's reply she looks up shocked, "What?"

Emma turns to look at her smiling sympathetically, "You have to take it with you."

"Chain of custody rules. All medical matter under reign must stay with the person who collected it until it's placed into police custody." The Chief explains.

"You collected the...specimen" Emma says, looking at the box in disgust "so you have custody." She walks out of the room, leaving a confused Quinn behind.

"Custody of a penis?" Quinn clarifies with the chief.

"Yep. Until the cops come for it." Sue confirms.

"Okay..." Quinn furrows her brows, "Well what am I suppose to do with the penis all day?"

Sadly Chief Sylvester doesn't have an answer for her, as she just shrugs and goes back to doing some work. So all Quinn can do is pick up her cooler, that's storing the penis and shuffle out of the chief's office.

She makes her way to a nurse's station where Sam is sitting, and places it on top of the desk as she grabs a few folders.

"What's that?" Sam asks curiously.

"Don't ask you don't want to know." Quinn replies wearily.

Sam perks up, excited to find out now, "I do want to know. Really!"

"You really want to know?" Quinn asks with a quirked eyebrow, when Sam nods eagerly she answers, "It's a severed penis."

He pales instantly, looking rather ill, "Oookay. I didn't really want to know that."

Just then Santana and Puck enter the nurse's station, arguing with one another. "Why do I have to be the one that gets hugged?" Santana asks.

"Because I don't do that shit. Besides you're the ovarian sister here." He replies cockily.

Santana glares at Puck, "Did you just call me an ovarian sister?" As he just nods and slinks away from them, she turns to look at Quinn, "Since when has the possession of ovaries become an insult?" she asks as she slumps back against the door frame.

Sam looks round to her, knowing the perfect way to cheer her up, "Quinn's carrying a penis around in a jar."

"Oh! From the rape surgery?" Santana perks up instantly as she peeks inside the container. She looks to Quinn and smirks, while replacing the lid, "Talk about taking a bite out of crime." She deadpans.

Quinn just rolls her eyes at the Latina, because what else can you do with such a morbid bitch around? "Hey since when did you start hanging out with the evil spawn?"

Santana sighs in frustration, "He's been reassigned to Beiste now, and she asked me to show him the ropes. Clearly I'm the most awesome out of us all." she smiles smugly at Sam before walking off.

They work side by side for a few minutes until Sam notices the frown on Quinn's face and asks, "You okay?"

She doesn't look up at him as she answers, "Yeah...Allison's shoes are..." she starts to explain but stops when she realise how ridiculous she's being.

"What?" Sam prompts.

"The rape victim, Allison." She starts, finally lifting her head to look at Sam, "Her shoes...I have the same ones in my locker. And I normally never wear them because they're not comfortable but today, I did. And she...was wearing the exact same shoes and it's just...stupid and I'm tired forget it."

Sam gives her a sad smile, and sits with her in silence for a while..."You know what you need?" he says, turning to face her with a pointed look.

"No! It's sick and twisted. We said last time was the last time." Quinn argues, but Sam looks away guiltily. "You've been doing it without me?!" Quinn exclaims.

"Nancy Regan lies. You can't just say no. Come on..." he urges.

"Do you know what would happen if anyone knew?" Quinn whispers harshly.

Sam walks around her to leave, "I'm doing it. You can come with me or...you can stay here and be miserable." He says as he grabs the back of the computer chair she's perched on and wheels her to the door behind him. She chuckles a little and decides to give in to the dark side, jumping off the chair to follow him.

Five minutes later she's stood next to Sam at the window of the pediatric ward, gazing in at all the newborns lying in their individual cots. Quinn can't help but laugh as Sam uses baby talk, and makes faces through the window.

"You are such a woman." She chuckles.

Sam stops instantly, looking mildly upset that Quinn thinks of him that way. He's about to say something when his pager goes off, he says a quick bye to Quinn before running off, leaving the blonde to watch the babies on her own.

"You are really cute." She whispers through the window, getting ready to go back to her actual job, but one of the babies in the back catches her eye, as he starts to turn blue, before his skin returns to its normal pink a few moments later. She looks around to see if any of the staff caught it, but no one else did. So she goes into the room to check on the baby boy.

She's in the middle of checking his chart when another intern, an intern who actually belongs on the ward walks in.

"What are you doing here?" She asks sternly.

"There were no tests ordered, and the baby has a murmur. He turned blue." Quinn stresses.

"You're surgery. You're not authorised to be in here. Do you know how much trouble you can get into for this?" the pediatric intern asks clearly annoyed with Quinn.

Except Quinn isn't that concerned about her own well-being when there's a baby turning blue in front of her, "Are you going to do any tests?"

"It's a benign systolic ejection murmur. It goes away with age." The intern states angrily. "He's not your patient; he's not even on your service."

"Are you sure it's benign?" Quinn stresses, just wanting the best for the welfare of the child.

The other intern holds open the door, indicating for Quinn to leave. "I'm a doctor too you know. You should get out of here."

Quinn takes one last look at the baby, reaching for the cooler and storming out of the room.

She doesn't get far before once again being cornered by an eager prospective roommate. She has resorted to asking ridiculous questions just to get rid of them. Much like the latest group of try hards, "What's your favourite 80s group?" she asks them.

"Queen!" is the first response she gets.

"No." She says firmly.

"Twisted Sister" says the next

She doesn't even warrant him with a response, just turning around and walking away from them, she hears one intern whisper to the other "It's not like there's a right or wrong answer to that question."

She shakes her head muttering to herself, "Oh yea there is, The Eurhythmics, Blondie, Dire Straits..."

* * *

She can't seem to shake the feeling that's be hanging over her all day, ever since Allison was admitted, and she noticed they shared the same shoes. That's probably why she currently finds herself stood outside the girl's room, looking through the glass window, at the girl who's heavily bandaged and in a coma. She's so lost in thought she doesn't notice Rachel stood at the nurse's desk watching her with a concerned expression.

"Quinn" Rachel says softly as she approaches the blonde, so not to startle her. "Dr. Scheuster's called every hospital in the county. Sooner or later the guy who did this is going to have to seek medical attention, and when he does, that penis you're carrying around..." she says pointing to the cooler in Quinn's hand "Is going to nail him."

"Where's her family?" Quinn queries.

"Doesn't have any."

"No siblings?"

"No, both her parents are dead, she only moved to Seattle 3 weeks ago. Welcome to the city huh?" they both stand there in silence, until Rachel turns to Quinn, placing a gentle hand on her forearm, "Quinn, you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine..." she replies still distracted, "I just have to do something. I have to go." She says smiling sympathetically at the brunette.

"Okay, I'm just gonna sit with Allison a little while" They both share a soft smile, before Quinn wanders off.

She leaves in search of Dr. Martinez. Hoping if she tells him about the baby up in the pediatric ward he might, as an attending be able to do something. Sadly it doesn't go quite as planned, his excuse of "I'm a busy man, Fabray." Really only served to make Quinn even more determined to do something for the baby.

A little later she's sat in the lobby of the hospital, eating some chips, hoping the police will arrive soon so she can get back to doing actual medicine. I mean sure walking around with a penis in a cooler is a pretty interesting experience, and probably a once in a life time one at that, but she's desperate to get back to working the trauma room, to be busy enough to keep her mind off everything that's happened today.

"What are you doing down here?"

She looks up to see a curious looking Santana, scouring for an interesting case or patient no doubt.

"Just sitting here, with my penis." She deadpans, smiling a little when she manages to make Santana laugh. "What about you?"

Santana drops into the seat next to her, "Hiding from Puck."

"I kissed Rachel." She confesses softly.

Santana thinks about the words for a minute before looking at Quinn, "You kissed the hobbit." She says in a matter of fact tone.

Quinn glares at her for the hobbit comment. "In the elevator."

"Oh, you kissed her in the elevator." Santana repeats again nodding her head.

"I was having a bad day...I am having a bad day." She amends.

"So that's what you do on your bad days? Make out with dwarfs in elevators?"

She huffs out a small laugh, lolling her head to rest it on Santana's shoulder. "Well you know that and carrying around a penis just makes everything seem so shiny and happy."

She feels Santana's shoulder shake as she laughs, "Wanky". They sit in silence for a few long seconds. "Sam said Allison was wearing your shoes." Santana says in an oddly (for her) serious tone.

"Yeah. It's weird right?" Quinn asks.

Santana reaches across her, stealing some chips from her. "It's weird that you care." She says around a mouthful of chips.

"I think it's weird."Quinn muses.

The conversation is cut short when there's a loud commotion outside in the parking lot. They both look at each other before rushing out to the car that's just swerved to a stop right by the main entrance of the hospital. The driver scrambles out of the car, covered in blood, walking unsteadily a few steps before collapsing, onto his stomach on the ground. Quinn and Santana along with a group of other hospital staff surround him, as they roll him onto his back, their eyes meet in silent understanding. They've just found the owner of the penis Quinn's been carrying around all day. They eventually get him onto a gurney and start making their way into the hospital.

"Somebody call security please" Quinn shouts to one of the many people surrounding the gurney. As they push it through the hospital, Dr. Beiste meeting then mid-way down a corridor.

"So, what've we got?"

"Take a look"

"What?" Beiste asks confused, looking down as Santana lifts the blankets covering the man. She looks up at her two interns, "Let's get him to OR 1. Quinn you call the Chief, let her know that we got the rapist."

Quinn grabs the cooler from the top of the gurney, running off in the opposite direction to alert the Chief, before joining them in OR 1 as soon as she can to observe the procedure.

She stands next to Santana in the OR. Watching as Dr. Beiste tries to steam the bleeding. She turns to the brunette next to her and whispers, "I saw Allison, you can't believe the beating she took, and then to see this..."

"It's like that old saying; you should see the other guy" Santana finishes for her.

Their conversation is interrupted by Dr. Beiste asking, "Why are we not attempting to re-attach the severed penis?"

Santana's the first to answer, "Teeth don't slice. They tear. You can only re-attach with a clean-cut. If she wanted to slice him off with a knife..."

Quinn takes over quickly, "Besides the digestive juices didn't leave much of the flesh to work with."

"Right. So what do we do?" Dr. Beiste questions them.

"Sew him up missing a large part of his small family jewels." Santana answers, and even though Quinn can't see her face due to their surgical masks; she just knows Santana's smiling at that.

"His outlook?"

"He'll be urinating out of a bag for a very very long time." Quinn replies.

"Not to mention he'll never be able to have sex again." Trust Santana to focus on the sex part.

"Oh too bad" Quinn drawls sarcastically.

"Shame" Santana nods in agreement, smirking beneath the surgical mask.

"Let's all take a moment to grieve." Dr. Beiste says, before immediately holding out her hand to the scrub nurse "Clamp".

* * *

A couple of hours later Santana and Puck are lounging in the deserted hallway, both sprawled on top of the spare hospital beds.

"My head hurts." Puck complains.

"Maybe it's a tumour" Santana states hopefully.

"Yeah, you wish I had a tumour." He retorts.

"Look, I'd rip your face off if it meant I got to scrub in" She replies, only half kidding.

Sam and Brittany join them a few minutes later, Brittany with her hands wrapped around her bring pink mug as she sits next to Santana. "I have been suturing _all_ day. My hands are numb."

"At least you're actually helping people." Sam replies as he decides what to get out of the vending machine.

"At least you get to practice freaking medicine." Argues Santana.

"I had to send one lady away, she was like, camped out down there." Brittany states regretfully.

"Oh poor Brittany, turning away patients, boo-hoo." Puck states rather sarcastically.

Quinn walks in, cooler still in hand, taking the potato chips from Sam's hands as she passes him before settling down between Santana and Puck. "So the police say they can't send the crack crime scene guy for hours. So I have to spend the night with a penis." Puck's mood immediately brightens as he leers at Quinn, about to open his mouth to speak. "Puck, don't say it." Quinn warns.

"Oh it was too easy anyway" He huffs.

After buying himself a new pack of potato chips Sam finally joins them, sitting next to Brittany. "Who here feels like that have no idea what they're doing?" He asks, raising one of his hands.

The other four interns turn to look at him before following suit and raising their hands, all aside from Puck.

"I mean are we supposed to be learning something? Because I don't feel like I'm learning anything." He vents.

"Except how not to sleep." Pipes in Brittany.

"You know it's like there's this wall. The attendings and the residents are over there being surgeons. And we're over here being..." Santana stops to think about what a good analogy would be.

"Suturing, code running, lab delivering, penis-minders." Quinn finishes for her.

"I hate being an intern." States Puck glumly.

Just the Dr. Beiste walks into the hallway, looking at them expectantly. They all quickly drag themselves to their feet, groaning before disappearing off in different directions. Beiste smiles, clearly proud of herself, before picking up Sam's forgotten chips, opening them as she sits on the bed.

* * *

Quinn finds herself back on the pediatric floor looking in at the babies again. She's already checked on Allison and there's no change, she feels so useless because she can't do anymore to help the girl, if she wakes up or not is totally out of her control, and she really hates not being in control. But the baby she was worried about earlier? She has to be able to do something for him. This is something she has control over. Maybe the pediatric intern was right; maybe it is nothing to worry about. But what if she was wrong? What if Quinn just ignores her gut instinct and something serious happens to him.

She spots the baby from earlier; his parents are around his crib. She bites her lip and makes a decision to go talk to his parents. She discusses with them how the murmur may not be benign and she is just about to suggest to them to request further tests, when the intern from earlier walks in.

"You are so out of line!" the intern cries angrily.

The father of the baby turns to the intern, "She says the murmur might not be benign."

Quinn pipes in, "I think we should do an echo, to check."

The intern storms off to get her resident, as Quinn tries to ease the parent's minds. The pediatric intern returns a few moments later, with her resident.

"What's the problem?" he asks the parents.

"If our baby is sick, we want him treated. Now." The mother replies.

"Who says you baby is sick?" The resident asks.

"Her." the pediatric intern says angrily, tilting her chin towards Quinn. "The surgical intern who has no business on our service."

"Who authorised you being here?" the resident asks Quinn curiously.

She struggles for an answer when Dr. Martinez suddenly appears from behind her, "I did." He states, before turning to the parents, "Could you excuse us for a moment please?" he guides Quinn and the two pediatric staff to a quiet corner, "Now may I have the chart please Dr. Kerr?"

"There's nothing wrong with him, I checked" the disgruntled intern states as Dr. Martinez reads the chart.

"Are you sure?" he asks her.

"Yes." Is the instant reply.

Dr. Martinez looks up from the chart to make eye contact with the intern, "You can guarantee that he is fine, you are 100% sure?"

The intern looks hesitant, "Not 100% no, maybe 75%." She replies.

"Not good enough. He's my patient now. That okay with you, Dr. Kerr?" when he gets a nod of approval from the resident he walks back to the baby's parents. "Mr and Mrs Johnson, I'm Dr. Martinez, head of cardio, we're going to run some tests and give you and answer within the hour." He tells them before turning to leave, Quinn trailing along beside him. "I want an EKG, a chest X-ray and an echo. I don't have all day."

"You're a busy man." she smirks at him.

He laughs lightly "I'm a busy man."

She finds him again a couple of hour's later, eager to hear if her risk pulled off. "Well?" she asks him impatiently.

"Well it's a birth defect, Tetralogy of Fallout with Pulmonary Atresia. You were right. I'm booking the OR for tomorrow." Dr. Martinez replies.

"Thank you for backing me up on this." She tells him.

"Whoa, whoa, wait. You were right. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again...going to the parents behind a doctor's back? Trying to steal a patient from another service? I will make you residency year hell on earth." He warns her before leaving to speak with the baby's parents. And despite the telling off she just got, she can't help but smile because her gut instinct was right.

She decides to go for one last check on the baby, when the pediatric intern she's been pissing off all day walks in. The share an awkward look, as Quinn goes to sit in one of the rocking chairs in the room, and the intern returns on of the babies to their crib. She pause, not looking up at Quinn as she says, "His heart surgery is scheduled for the morning...I really did think I was right you know?" finally turning her head to look at Quinn.

"I know. We almost never are though. We're interns. We're not supposed to be right. And when we are, it's completely shocking." Quinn tells her.

"Are you-I mean, being an intern, do you feel..." she trails of, to embarrassed to say it out loud in case she's the only one to feel that way.

"Terrified." Quinn admits, "100% of the time."

The intern turns around fully to smile at her, "Good it's not just me."

Quinn huffs out a laugh, "No. Defiantly not." She stays a little longer in the quiet of the nursery, thinking, deciding that she's been avoiding Allison's room for long enough.

She makes her way to the floor Allison's room is on, still carrying the damn cooler, when she reaches the nurse's station, outside of Allison's room, she see's Rachel sitting at one of the computers, approaching her slowly. "How is she?"

Rachel looks up, giving Quinn a small tired smile, "No change."

"Have you been here all night?" Quinn questions softly.

"Mmhmm, yep." She mumbles wearily, looking back at her computer screen, speaking again a few moments later. "Did you know I'm an only child too? I've got two dads though, one of them is Jewish, so I have this ridiculously high number of cousins. If I was in a coma, they'd all be here. They'd be loud and obnoxious, and probably have a sing-a-long by my bedside. I'd want them too." She glances quickly to where Allison's lying. "Having no one? I can't imagine that."

"I can." Quinn murmurs quietly.

"What are you talking about? What about your mother? She'd be here ordering all the surgeons around. She'd fly some cowboys in from Prague who carry out these amazing medical procedures." Rachel jokes with her.

Quinn bites down on her lip, if only Rachel knew just how far from the truth that statement was, but that's a conversation she just doesn't have the energy for, so she slips into the lies she's been using freely when questioned about her mother, "That's true I do have my mother."

Rachel stands up, moving over to the sink to splash some water over her face, before coming over to stand next to Quinn at the entrance into Allison's room, leaning against the door frame as she looks over to the blonde, "So we're kissing, but we're not dating?" she enquires, smirking at Quinn.

Quinn rolls her eyes, turning her head to the brunette, "I knew that was going to come up."

Rachel just grins at her, "Don't get me wrong, I like the kissing. I am all for the kissing. More kissing I say."

"I have no idea what that was about." Quinn says shaking her head, thinking back to earlier in her shift.

Rachel leans closer to Quinn to whisper, "Well is it going to happen again? Because if it is, I need to bring breath mints."

"Shut up now." Quinn hisses back, as Rachel just laughs. There's a brief easy silence between them before Quinn speaks again, "There's this baby up in nursery. He's brand new. No one's neglected him, or damaged him yet. How do we get from there to here? She's wearing my shoes and someone's beat the crap out of her. And she's got nobody." Quinn finishes forlornly.

Rachel looks over at her, a sad smile on her face but no answers. All of a sudden the monitors in Allison's room begin to beep; Quinn reacts first hitting the code button on the wall for help. Rachel runs into the room, shouting over her shoulder for Quinn to page Dr. Schuester. As a flurry of staff rush into the room to care for her.

When Dr. Schuester arrives a few seconds later he rushes Allison into the OR to perform a craniotomy, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on her brain. Quinn's leaning against the wall outside the OR, the stupid cooler still in her presence as she waits for news.

Rachel comes out a few minutes later, leaning against the wall next to Quinn. "He...Uh...He had to leave her skull flap off, until the pressure in her brain goes down." Rachel fills Quinn in.

"She's not going to make it, is she?" Quinn asks bleakly.

"She's going to be fine." Rachel says with a hopeful tone, thought the look on her face suggest anything but.

Quinn gives her a knowing look, "If she ever wakes up."

Rachel nods slightly, "If she ever wakes up." She repeats feebly.

* * *

Finally, finally the police arrive to take the damn penis from Quinn. She gets called to the Chief's office and Emma sits her down, showing her where to sign to get the thing taken off her hands.

"So here is where you put your signature...and down here, initials." Emma explains pointing at the documents in front of her.

"Mmhmm, okay." Quinn says, distractedly as she signs her name.

"It...Just says that the...um...the" Emma

"Penis." Quinn supplies helpfully, as Emma just blushes and takes the signed papers from Quinn.

"The documents just say that it was never out of your sight." Chief Sylvester explains for Emma as she enters the room, with a police officer just behind her.

"There you go. One penis." Quinn says, holding the cooler up for the Chief, who in turn passes it to the officer.

Straight after she rushes to the OR where Dr. Martinez offered to let her observe the surgery on the baby, She's standing off to the side as he explains the approach they'll be using in the surgery, "Hey Fabray?" he calls over to her.

"Yes, sir?"

"Go scrub in. When we've finished cracking his chest, I'll let you hold the clamp."

"Seriously?" Quinn asks with excitement.

He turns to look over at her, "Don't make me change my mind." He says sternly.

"I'm going." She shouts as she rushes out to scrub in.

The surgery was incredible. She comes out of it with such a rush, being able to be that close to watch as Dr. Martinez works with one of the tiniest hearts she's ever seen, was just incredible, a vast improvement on the few feet away the interns are usually forced to stand.

After the surgery she goes in search for her group of fellow interns to tell them just how amazing it was. She finds them back at the nursery, looking at the babies through the window. She joins them silently, a few of them greeting her with small smiles as they quietly soak in the quietness and peacefulness the nursery has to offer after a long hard shift.

_**At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don't keep other people out, they fence you in. Life is messy, that's how we're made.**_

"Okay, fine. Sam and Brittany, you can move into the house." She tells them in a resigned voice. Because really, she hasn't had any better offers, and she really needs some roommates.

They both look at her excitedly, before simultaneously wrapping their arms around her and giving her a tight hug, grinning as she hears Brittany say to Sam, "I can't believe she caved!"

As they both release her from the hug, Sam looks at her with a beaming smile and gives her a sincere, "Thank you."

She just nods at him, and as he turns to Brittany to start excited discussions about being roommates, Quinn turns to Santana, who watched the hug with a disgusted look on her face and says, "I can't believe I caved."

"I blame the babies. They make you toxic." Santana just deadpans.

_**So you can waste your life drawing lines. Or you can live your life crossing them. **_

At the end of her shift, Quinn's changing out of her scrubs when her phone chimes, indicating she has a new text message. She sits back onto the bench, smiling when she sees it's from Rachel, before clicking to open it. Her smile widening as she reads the three words.

_She woke up. _

Quinn isn't sure she's ever felt quite so relieved before, as she picks up her leopard print shoes and slips them on. Santana comes and exhaustedly lies down along the free space on the bench next to Quinn. "I need a drink, a man, or a massage." She says as she rakes her fingers through her dark hair. "Or just a drunken massage by a man." She amends. They hear a loud frustrated sigh as Sam comes through the door, "What's wrong with you?" Santana asks, barely able to life her head to look at him.

"I lost five patients on the code team today. Five! I feel like the Angel of Death." He tells her glumly.

"Sam...95% of all code patients can't be revived. Most of them are seriously dead before you even get there." Santana tells him sitting up slightly.

He turns to face her, "What?! Why didn't you tell me that when I was going on and on about how great it was going to be?!" he yells irritate.

"Because" Santana shrugs, "You're Sam and I'm Santana." She supplies unhelpfully, smirking as she makes her way past him.

Quinn makes her way out of the locker room, heading towards the elevators, spotting Rachel standing there, working with her phone. They share a small, polite smile as Quinn comes to a stop next to her. They're both quiet for a while as they wait for the elevator to arrive.

"So..." Rachel begins, breaking the silence "It's intense. This thing I have...for uh ferry boats, I mean." She finishes looking at Quinn from the corner of her eye, catching the small smile that appears.

Quinn turns to face her fully, narrowing her eyes at the brunette, "I'm so taking the stairs this time." Shaking her head with a smile as she walks away from Rachel.

"You have no self-control. It's sad, really." Rachel teases, smiling as she watches Quinn walk away, before getting onto the elevator that's just arrived.

_**But there are some lines that are way too dangerous to cross. **_

As Quinn walks out of the main entrance doors of the hospital, she smiles spotting Sam, Brittany and Santana walking a few feet ahead of her, she runs to catch up with them, reaching just in time to hear the tail end of Santana's sentence, "You could always just unlock your humongous jaw and swallow him whole like a python." And really she can't do anything but laugh at that, mostly because of how ridiculous it is, but also because today's actually, in the end, turned out to be not so bad. She's letting these people in, trusting them as friends, and they're silly, and annoying and rude (well...that's just Santana), yet they've made what's been a hard, unbearable at times shift, turn out to be a good one. She took a risk and helped save a baby. She's watched a girl, who had been beaten to within an inch of her life, fight and survive. Even when all the odds were against her. So yeah, today? It's been a good one.

_**Here's what I know. If you're willing to throw caution to the wind and take a chance, the view from the other side... is spectacular.**_


	3. Winning a Battle, Losing the War

**Thank you to everyone who's left a review, added the story as a favourite, or are following it, it's really nice to know people are actually reading.**

**So hopefully I don't let you all down, here's Chapter 3!**

* * *

_**We live our lives on the surgical unit. Seven days a week, fourteen hours a day. We're together more than we're apart. After a while the ways of residency, become the ways of life.**_

God it's been too long since she's felt this good, every brush of the brunette's lips against Quinn's seems to make every stress from her day melt away, one by one. The blonde slide's her hands along the soft tan skin of the other girl's thighs, urging her to come closer, as the brunette straddles her hips, pressing her hips down hard against Quinn's. "Mmm Rachel." The blonde breaths out against the kiss swollen lips of the brunette. She feels like she's on fire the way Rachel's hand feels against her skin as she trails it down her abs, the way her lips brush along the exposed skin on the blonde's neck, the way she continuously prods at Quinn's cheek...Wait, what?

"Ahhh!" she screams when she opens her eyes to unexpectedly find one very cheery looking Brittany hovering over her with a cup of coffee in her hands.

"Good Morning!" Brittany greets cheerfully, but her facial expression quickly turns into a frown when she tells Quinn, "Sam's room is bigger than mine." After the unexpected awakening Quinn really only has the energy to sigh heavily as she pushes back the blankets, she stands up, sending Brittany a weak glare, about to storm out of the room, but tripping and falling flat on her face. Okay so now she's awake. "I have more clothes; I should have the bigger room." Brittany continues, not even bothering to try and help Quinn up. Again Quinn breaths out a frustrated sigh, pushing herself off the ground and walking out of her bedroom.

"I got here first!" Sam shouts as they pass him, standing guard and his bedroom door.

"It's Quinn's house, she should decide." Brittany argues, following Quinn down the stairs.

"My room is bigger by like, two inches!" He tries to reason with her, chasing after the pair.

"You have a bigger closet!"

"So? Just put your clothes somewhere else! Why is everything always a competition?" Sam queries.

_**Number one: Always keep score.**_

_**Number two: Do whatever you can to outsmart the other guy.**_

"Everywhere else is filled with Quinn's mom's boxes." Brittany says, as they follow Quinn into the laundry room while she tries to find some clean clothes to wear to work.

"Quinn? When is you mom coming back to town anyway? Because maybe we can put her boxes in storage?" Sam asks, just as Quinn finds something to wear, and turns to walk back out of the room, hoping if she ignores them long enough they might magically disappear.

"Or unpack a few things; make this place a little homier. Maybe some throws, some pillows and lamps, oh and some paintings!" Brittany suggest as they make their way back up the stairs at Quinn's heels.

"Oh, paintings would be nice." Sam agrees.

"Yeah. You have all this amazing stuff just packed away. In the back hall, I found this box with like a hundred tapes of your mom performing these amazing medical procedures."Brittany continues, except Quinn still just ignores them, making her way into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her in case they decided to join her in there too.

"Really? We should watch them" Sam says looking at Brittany, "Quinn do you want to watch them?" He asks through the bathroom door. He smiles as the door opens again, but it quickly falls from his face, as Quinn just grabs Brittany's coffee from her, and shuts the door once again.

"Quinn, do you want some privacy?" Sam asks quietly through the door. On the other side of which Quinn just slumps back against and slides down until she's preached on the floor, holding the stolen coffee between her hands and wondering if she'll ever get a few moments of peace ever again.

_**Number three: Don't make friends with the enemy.**_

* * *

A little later she's finally found some solace when she sees Santana, who seems to be about as much of a morning person as Quinn. They're walking side by side, in peaceful silence as they follow their resident along a corridor of the hospital, with Brittany, Sam and Puck walking slightly ahead of them.

"Fools on bikes killing themselves. Natural selection is what it is." Dr. Beiste rants.

Puck looks slightly confused leaning in to whisper quietly to Sam, "What's up with the Nazi? Is she off her meds?"

"You never heard of the race?" Sam asks Puck curiously.

He doesn't get a chance to finish the conversation as they come up to the OR board, where Chief Sylvester, Dr. Martinez and Dr. Scheuster are standing and admiring it.

"Excellent board. Well-timed, balanced, efficient. If all goes well, we'll have an early night." Chief Sylvester states proudly.

Dr. Beiste approaches them, tapping the Chief on her shoulder, "Chief. Dead baby bike race started twenty minutes ago." She informs, continuing down the corridor with her interns trailing behind closely.

The Chief sighs heavily before calling out, "All right, people! Dead baby bike race day!" Dr. Scheuster claps his hands together to get everyone moving while the Chief picks up a cloth and starts to wipe off the OR schedule.

Beiste leads her group of interns off the elevator that they had been on, and down the hallway to the pit. Each of them sliding off their white lab coats as they go, to replace them with disposable yellow gowns.

Sam decides now is a good time to describe to Puck all about the race, "Every year this bar-"

"The Dead Baby Bar" Quinn interrupts

"Every year, they hold this underground bike race." Sam continues, before, again being interrupted.

"Don't you wonder why someone would name a bar something so disgusting?" Brittany asks in revulsion.

"Keep your panties on, Nancy Drew." Santana tells her, playfully poking her side, making the blonde giggle.

"The race is completely, illegal and -" Sam tries again.

"Crazy. A bunch of bike messengers racing against traffic trying to beat each other for free shots of tequila." Quinn finishes for him as she takes the yellow gown Santana grabbed for her.

"All-out, no holds barred competition. Sounds like fun." Puck chimes in, sounding mildly impressed by the prospect of this race.

"Yea, you would think that." Brittany tells him.

"The race doesn't even have any rules. Except eye gouging. No eye gouging." Sam explains, making a gesture at Brittany causing her to laugh.

"Oh great, we're going to be trapped in the pit bandaging up idiots when we could be up in the OR." Santana complains, turning Quinn around to tie the blonde's gown, while Brittany helps to tie hers.

"What kind of people engage in a race that has, as its only rule that you can't rip out the eyeballs of another human being?" Sam asks, aiding Brittany with her gown, before turning to help Puck.

"Men Sammie boy. Men." Puck tells him in a tone that suggests Sam wouldn't understand, causing the blonde to practically push Puck's gown off him again.

Beiste makes her way back to the interns, already dress and ready to go, "I need someone to get up to the OR floor, the Chief needs a right hand." Everyone in the areas hand shoots up, hoping to be picked and not have to waste their day in the pit, except for Quinn, who's just too tired to bother today.

_**Oh and yeah, number four: Everything. Everything is a competition.**_

"Sam." Dr. Beiste says resigned, motioning for him to go. A delighted looking Sam throws a smug smile towards his fellow interns, as he takes off his gown and heads back the way he came, while everyone else looks at him rather annoyed and jealous, dropping their hands again.

"Okay people, the rules of trauma. Don't mingle with the ER interns; they don't know their ass from their oesophagus. Sew fast, discharge fast; take bodies up to the OR yesterday. And don't let me catch you fighting over patients." She sends a pointed look to Santana. "Got it? Come on, let's go."

Santana's face lights up as soon as they enter the pit, looking around at the large group of bloodied and hurt individuals, "Oh, it's like candy, but with blood, which is just so much better." She says eagerly.

"Oh my God..." Brittany says in awe as she looks around the room, spotting a man being wheeled past looking like he's in a pretty serious condition.

"Mine!" Santana cries as soon as she spots him, dashing over to her new patient_._

"No! I saw him first!" Brittany shouts as she chases after Santana and the patient.

_**Whoever said that winning wasn't everything...**_

Quinn looks around the pit, spotting a guy on one of the beds, with spokes coming from his abdomen.

"Ohh I'll take that guy" Quinn says with an excited smile.

"No way, you'll have to beat me to him first" Puck responds, both of them pushing against each other as they hurriedly make their way towards the guy.

_**...never held a scalpel.**_

They both reach him at the same time, and stand for a few moments arguing over who should get to see to the patient; whose name turns out to be Viper and who is watching on with interest.

"Heads he's mine, tails he's yours" Puck says, thinking he's found the perfect solution.

"Why do you get to be heads?" Quinn asks.

"Because I have a head, and honey you _are_ tail." He smirks at her.

She glares at Puck, before turning to her patients saying a polite "Excuse me" before closing the curtain on Viper, and whirling around to face Puck again, "How do you manage to make everything dirty?" She asks as Puck flips the coin, they both lean in to look at it. "Ha! Tails." She smiles smugly at him, "There are plenty of other cases."

"So go get one. I was here first." Puck argues.

"I am not backing down so I can do sutures all day while you're up in the OR. This is a surgical case and you know it."

"It's superficial. I mean, it's cool, but it's superficial."

"How do you know those things didn't rupture his peritoneum?"

"Because he's sitting up, and he's sitting there talking to us!"

Just then the patient pulls the curtain back, " 'Allo, excuse me, I was wondering if you could take theses out, and sew me up, so I can go and win my race?" he asks them, in an English accent, looking mostly at Quinn. Puck turns around and starts to examine the area.

"Well, we can't just pull them out I mean we ought to –"Quinn begins to explain except Puck does just that and pulls one of the spokes straight from the guy "...do some tests..." she finishes weakly.

"Oh, wicked" Viper says in awe, as Puck pulls the three remaining spokes from him.

"Are you out of your mind?" Quinn asks Puck incredulously.

"It's a superficial wound." Puck states, handing the spokes to Quinn, "Sew him up, and let him finish his race."

Quinn just stares at him in disbelief as he moves to leave "You...you..." she splutters

"Ah good man." Viper says happily.

She glares at Puck as he leaves the bay, smiling tightly at her patient. She guides Viper into one of the private rooms off to the side and grabs some supplies to begin stitching him up.

She has almost finished stitching up his wound when he speaks again. "Ah, you got a nice touch. And by the way, you are a rocking babe." He finishes with a big grin.

She looks at him unimpressed, "Seriously, do you actually think you have a shot here?" she asks quirking her eyebrow at him.

"I like to think I've got a shot anywhere" he says confidently.

"Okay. Look, you really have to let me take you for some tests; run a CT. You could have internal bleeding." She moves the topic on quickly, trying to reason with him.

"No thank you. I've got a race to get back to."

"Why, you can't win now anyway." She asks curiously, placing a bandage over his freshly stitched wound.

"Doesn't mean I can't cross that finish line. There's a party at the finish line." He leans closer to Quinn whispering to her, "Do you want to meet me there?"

She just starts at him for a moment, not quite believing she's being hit on in the middle of a shift in the pit. "One test. A CT. I'll have you out of here in an hour." She tries to bargain with him.

"Can't do it, gotta go." Viper replies, admiring his battle wound.

"Okay, well you realise that you're leaving against medical advice and that I strongly urge you to stay?" Quinn asks as she removes her latex gloves.

"The frat guy said I could go."

"The frat guy is an ass." She tells him seriously, causing him to laugh "Okay, well, you have to sign an AMA form."

"Darlin', I will do anything you want me to." He flirts.

"What is it with you guys and your need to dirty everything up?" Quinn asks him seriously, thrusting a clipboard at him for him to sign.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just testosterone, eh?" he deadpans.

"Maybe. You might want to see a doctor about that, too." She tells him sarcastically.

"Give it here." He smiles, taking the form and signing it, then getting to his feet and setting the clipboard on the table "There". He smiles again at Quinn, as he goes to leave before seemingly changing his mind, he turns back abruptly to a confused Quinn, sliding one arm around her waist, and placing a hand on the back of her neck, and pulling her into a kiss. Quinn on her part just stands there shocked, holding her hands up in silent protest.

"That was for good luck." He smiles as he pulls back, before opening the door. "Don't worry darling, you'll see me again." He says before leaving.

"For you sake, I hope not!" Quinn calls after him as the door closes. She shakes her head with a smile as she begins to strip the bed, not quite believing what just happened, her eyes flick up to see a very unhappy looking Rachel standing on the other side of one of the windows, her hands perched on her hips, and her eyes narrowed.

Quinn tries not to smile as Rachel enters the room, but really it's much more difficult that it should be, "What do you want?"

"You make out with patients now?" Rachel asks disbelieving.

"What are you jealous?" she questions with an arched eyebrow.

"I don't get jealous." Rachel scoffs, folding her arms against her chest, although from the fire currently burning in the brunette's eyes, Quinn has a hard time believing that.

"We had sex, once." Quinn reasons with her, not understanding how the brunette could be jealous.

"Okay one: It was more than once" Rachel replies smirking at the memory "And two: we also kissed, in an elevator."

"And we kissed in an elevator...once." Quinn amends.

"No, seriously, I mean come on, go out with me." Rachel pleads.

"No." Quinn replies sternly.

Rachel's face all of a sudden becomes serious, "You know, I almost died today. Yeah, I came like..." She brings her hand up gesturing with her thumb and forefinger, "this close. How would you feel if I died, and you didn't get a chance to go out with me?"

Quinn just scoffs, "Get over yourself already."

Rachel just smiles at her, "Come on. Please?" she begs.

"It's the chase, isn't it?" Quinn says all of a sudden very seriously, turning to face Rachel.

"What?" the brunette asks tilting her head in confusion.

"The thrill of the chase. I've been wondering to myself, why are you so hell bent on getting me to go out with you? You know I keep saying no. It's the chase."

"Well, its fun isn't it?" Rachel questions, smirking slightly.

"You see? This is a game to you. But not to me. Because unlike you, I still have something to prove." She tells Rachel seriously before turning to leave, leaving a rather dumbfounded brunette behind.

* * *

So, it turns out the case Brittany and Santana fought over was not as fun as Brittany thought it would be. Well at first it was because she got to do all these really cool tests on him, but then when the attending neurosurgeon Dr. Scheuster came to check on him, he told them that he didn't have any brain activity, and that if after 6 hours he still wasn't reacting to any of the confirmatory tests they would have to declare him brain dead. That made Brittany a very sad little panda.

Santana keeps explaining to her that if he has no higher brain function that he is dead, but Brittany just can't understand how they are expected to declare someone dead if they still have a heartbeat, and they're breathing. I mean medical miracles happen all the time, so maybe just this once this poor guy could be a medical miracle, you know?

The worst part for Brittany is knowing this guy belongs to someone, that he has an actual name that isn't just 'John Doe' he's somebody's son, somebody's husband, and after 6 hours they're expected to just declare him dead without his family being here. Except when she tried to explain that part to Santana, she just got this wide-eyed excited look when she realised that he is a potential organ donor.

And it does kind of make sense to Brittany, because if he's going to die, his death should at least mean something. But surely they can't let him die without his family getting the chance to see him one last time. So after Santana runs off excited to find Beiste to let her know of his potential, Brittany decided to stay behind and have a few words with John Doe.

"Okay, well, I know you maybe can't hear me, and you're like feeling this big push to go towards the light, where everything is all unicorns and all-you-can-eat buffets and stuff." She whispers, leaning down closer to the man, "And I mean, sharing your organs is really good and all, but I think you have a family. I can feel it. So I think it'd be really great if you could do me a favour, and get better. Just...live. So you think you could give that a shot for me?" she questions lightly, before pulling back ready to fill in his chart.

Except the monitors start to beep, and when she looks up to the monitor, she sees that his heart rate is beginning to drop. "Oh no...No no no." She chants over, standing by his bed, looking around for help. "Quinn! Quinn!" Brittany calls out from the side room that Quinn happens to be walking past.

"What?" she asks as she runs into the room.

"He's crashing!" Brittany explains

"Well, what the hell are you doing? Call the code!" Quinn cries as she moves to his bed side.

"I can't. I'm not supposed to. He's brain dead." She tells her forlornly.

Quinn gives her a sympathetic look, "Britt, if he's brain dead, you have to let him go."

"No! It's only been five hours and thirty three minutes. He's supposed to get six hours." Brittany tries to explain.

Quinn picks up his chart flicking through it, "We can't do anything to help him live. It's not our place to make that call."

"He's a person, we're doctors. We should have every right to make that call. We can't just stand here and do nothing while he dies. He has a right to the next twenty-seven minutes."

Quinn stares at her for a few long moments, as Brittany pleads with her eyes, before she makes up her mind, "Screw it." Quinn sighs. "I'll get the dopamine, you get the blood. We'll transfuse him."

They somehow manage to concur Santana into helping them too; Quinn isn't sure if it's because (like her) she finds it impossible to say no to Brittany and her damn little sad face, or if it's because of the prospect of being part of an organ harvest. But she doesn't care that much which the reason is because at least they have a third set of hands to help keep the guy alive.

"He's stable." Quinn tells the brunette.

"For now. I had a radiologist look at his chest films. He has a traumatic aortic injury. He's going to rupture and bleed out." Santana explains to them.

"So he needs surgery." Brittany concludes

Santana nods at her, "If he's going to remain a viable organ donor, yeah."

"If he's going to live." Brittany amends.

"Brittany..." Santana starts, her voice unusually soft.

"No!" She yells adamantly cutting the brunette off, "I'm not giving up on him. He has the surgery, he lives longer, that's the point. So I'm going to help find the family, you guys find a way to get him into surgery." She orders them before storming off.

"She's vice – president of fantasyland." Santana vents to Quinn as they watch her leave.

"Yeah, it's sweet though, how much she cares."

"It is." Santana admits begrudgingly

"So who do we go to for the surgery? Beiste?"

"No" Santana shakes her head, "We need to go higher than Beiste." Santana says as she runs off, Quinn hot on her heels; explaining her plan to Quinn on the way.

After about half an hour of searching every inch of the hospital for Dr. Martinez, one of the nurses finally let them know she just saw him go into the men's bathroom.

"Rock, paper, scissors, to decide who has to go in and ask." Quinn says as they stand by the door.

Santana just shrugs and puts her hand behind her back ready to start, "Rock, Paper, Scissors" They chat in unison before choosing their desired item.

"Ha! Rock crushes scissors, I win!" Santana yells in triumph.

"Wait, how about best of three?" Quinn pleads.

"No way Blondie. I won fair and square. Get to it." Santana replies, giving Quinn a firm shove towards the bathroom door.

"Dr. Martinez?" Quinn reluctantly opens the door slightly and calls into the bathroom.

"Hello?!" Martinez yells incredulously, because hello? He's in the middle of something.

"Okay, okay sorry." Quinn replies, closing the door again quickly.

Except the fact the attending currently trying to have a pee isn't enough to deter Santana as she rolls her eyes at Quinn and peaks in herself. "Dr. Martinez, um, I know you're busy, but our John Doe needs an aortic repair."

"The guy from this morning? Isn't he legally dead?"

"Well, yea, he's kinda still around? We gave him two units of PRBCs and put him on pressers." She says sheepishly.

"Under whose orders?" He asks before turning to wash his hands. Santana panics and shuts the door outside, looking to Quinn for an answer before just grabbing her and forcing her through the door again.

"Mine" Quinn tells him.

"You gave a brain-dead John Doe a blood transfusion without consulting anyone. And now you want me to repair his heart?" Dr. Martinez asks, looking at the pair through the mirror.

"Well...yes." Santana answers.

"You do enjoy crossing the line, don't you?" he asks looking at Quinn.

"He's an excellent candidate for organ donation." Quinn tries to explain.

"I am a surgeon. I save lives. This guy is already dead. Now, this is the men's room. Either whip one out or close the door." They look at each other before wisely choosing to close the door.

"So now what are we going to do?" Santana ponders, because neither of them really wants to go back to Brittany without a plan.

"We need some advice from someone who knows how the hospital works." Quinn reasons.

"Got anyone in mind?" Santana asks the blonde, she then watches in amusement as the blonde throws her head back in exasperation and groans.

"Yea I know who we have to find." Except she really _really _doesn't want to go there, but if it's a choice between approaching a certain brunette who's been persistently asking her out, and a normally bubbly blonde who actually is pretty terrifying when she's on a mission, then in all honestly it's a pretty easy choice for Quinn.

So it's with reluctance that she finds herself standing with Brittany and Santana, watching Rachel as she finishes up checking the vitals on a patient. She tries to tell herself that she's being ridiculous, because really it's just another intern; there is no reason for her to be nervous, or have butterflies. Rachel made herself clear this morning. She's only in it for the chase. Not that Quinn cares or anything, because even if it wasn't all about the case for the brunette, Quinn still wouldn't be interested, she's just focusing on work. Yep that's it, work. Brittany and Santana watch on in amusement as Quinn heads towards the brunette.

"I need your help." Quinn says as soon as she reaches Rachel, not giving the brunette time to respond, "We..." She gestures behind her, to where she knows Santana and Brittany are still watching, "have this patient, he's pretty much brain dead, but a perfect candidate for organ donation and well he needs an aortic repair, but Martinez refuses to do it on a brain dead patient, so..."

"You're asking my advice?" Rachel asks amused, and way too smug for Quinn's liking.

"Yes." Quinn tells her simply.

"Well, now who's doing the chasing?" she smirks.

"Not funny. This is important. You've worked here longer; you know better than us how the attendings work."

"Okay." Rachel decides to give the blonde a break, because honestly she's slightly impressed with what the blonde's trying to do. "You want to get around Martinez? You gotta find a way to get the Chief involved."

Quinn ponders this a moment, before a smirk appears on her face, "Thank you." She tells the brunette seriously, because she is glad for her help, and she always remembers her manners. She spins around heading back to Santana and Brittany, to explain to them what she has in mind.

* * *

They find Sam in the cafeteria, about to take a bite out of his sandwich. The three of them come to a stop in front of his table, looking slightly terrifying with their hands resting on their hips.

"What'd I do?" He asks, a little scared as he sets his sandwich back down.

"How close a match for the liver is your guy to our John Doe?" Quinn asks, folding her arms across her chest.

"Very. Same type, same size. UNOS couldn't find a better match, why?" he asks curiously

The three girls share a look, before Brittany turns to him, "He's the chief's VIP, right?"

"Right" Sam confirms, still not following where this is leading.

A smirk appears on Santana's face as she asks him, "How much would you kill to be in on a transplant surgery?"

"You underestimate me. I'm not a baby, I'm your colleague. You don't have to manipulate me. If you want something all you have to do is ask." Sam tells them.

"We want you to go over Martinez's head to the Chief." Brittany tells him.

"Ask me something easier." Sam replies, looking slightly terrified at the prospect.

Thankfully with a little bit of persuasion, and Brittany putting on her little sad face, they manage to convince Sam to go to the Chief. They stand just down the hall, watching in apprehension as Sam approaches Chief Sue. Sadly they're too far away to hear what's being said, but they can tell from Sam's body language that he's stuttering and stumbling his way through an explanation. They can also tell the exact moment he tells the Chief that they've found her VIP a liver, because she almost instantly stands a little straighter, giving Sam her full attention.

"We are so going to hell. Martinez is sending us straight to hell." Quinn mumbles.

"On an express train." Santana adds, filling her nails trying to look disinterested.

"Only if it works." Brittany says, trying in her own little way to make them feel better.

Puck walks up to them, eyeing them suspiciously, "What're you doing?"

"Nothing." The three girls answer in unison, each giving him their own glare, aside from Santana who doesn't even bother to look at him.

He stops next to them, watching along as Dr. Martinez is stopped by Chief Sue on his way past, and she starts discussing the potential liver with him.

"Yes!" Brittany grins, clapping her hands in excitement, believing their plan has worked. They then watch as the chief walks away, giving Sam a proud pat on the back, who smiles as she leaves, before turning back to be met with a pretty angry looking Dr. Martinez, he scurries away pretty quickly. Brittany chuckles as she watches him leave, that is until Dr. Martinez turns to look at them...

"Oh crap." Santana breaths as the three girls quickly run away, leaving an inquisitive looking Puck behind.

* * *

That little shit. Puck, the insufferable asshole just stole their damn surgery. He's stood right by Dr. Martinez looking all cocky and smug as he observes first-hand the aortic repair. Leaving Quinn, Sam, Brittany and Santana having to observe from the dizzy heights of the observation gallery.

"I seriously hate that guy." Santana says quite seriously.

"Puck is vermin. That surgery was ours." Quinn says with disgust as she watches him.

"At least Martinez is doing the surgery. I don't care about Puck. You did good, Sam." Brittany smiles at him, giving his head a pat as he sits next to her.

"I'm going to have to dodge Dr. Martinez for the rest of my career." He leans over to closer to Quinn, "He could kill me and make it look like an accident." He whispers, quite seriously.

Just then a nurse enters the gallery to inform Santana and Brittany that the wife of their John Doe (Who's name turns out to be Kevin Davidson), has been found and is on her way. The two share a sad, yet relieved look as they go to wait for her to arrive. Sad that they have to tell her that her husband won't make it, but relieved that he's technically still going to be alive for her to say goodbye too.

* * *

Quinn is relieved when her shift is finally over, all the scheming and planning has really been more exhausting than the amount of sutures she had to do in the pit with all the crazy cyclists. She's just finished changing out of her scrubs, when her pager beeps, she checks it quickly, seeing it's a message from the nursing home her mother's at, and yea that just makes her more exhausted. She's pulled from her thoughts when Puck bursts through the door.

"God, I smell good! You know what it is?" He asks facing Quinn, "It's the smell of open heart surgery." Quinn glares at him as he takes a deep breath, as if inhaling his own scent. "It's awesome. It is awesome! You gotta smell." He walks behind Quinn wrapping his arms around her.

"I don't want to smell you!" Quinn shouts at him as he just holds on to her tighter, while she tries to fight him off.

"Oh yes you do! You want to know what it's like to actually work your ass off to gain something, not just ride your mother's coat tails." He taunts.

She turns around; grabbing the collar of his scrubs and pushes him harshly against the lockers, "You have got to be kidding me! Okay. I have more important things to deal with than you! I have roommates, and love life problems, and family problems." She just becomes even more incensed as Puck just yawns in front of her, with a bored look on his face, "You want to act like a little frat boy bitch? That's fine. You want to take credit for your saves, and everybody else's? That's fine too. Just stay out of my face!"

Puck hears the door open, and looks over Quinn's shoulder, spotting Rachel entering the room, who stands shocked in place, deciding it's best she doesn't interrupt.

Quinn roughly grabs Puck's chin, turning his face so he's looking directly at her angry hazel eyes. "And for the record, you smell like crap!"

She turns to go back to her locker, and spots Rachel standing there watching them, but she's so angry she just sighs heavily and continues to her locker, hoping to calm down. Rachel looks to Puck, silently asking what the hell just happened. Puck just holds his arms up, acting innocently, "She attacked me."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say as Quinn rushes towards him, about to actually attack him for real this time.

"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn!" Rachel makes a grab for the blonde before she reaches Puck, gently holding her arms and pressing her back against the lockers. She doesn't really know what's happened, but seeing how angry the blonde is, she quickly decides its Pucks fault regardless. She turns to glare at the mohawked boy over her shoulder, "You know you might want to leave. Before I change my mind and let her beat you to a pulp with her tiny ineffectual fists."

Puck struts out of the room, trying to act as if the two women currently glaring at him aren't scaring the crap out of him.

"My fists aren't tiny. Or ineffectual. " Quinn glares at Rachel, after Puck leaves; although the glare isn't quite as fierce as the one she gave Puck...

So Rachel decides it's safe to tease her a little. "Oh trust me; I know just how effectual your hands are."

"Stop it. Okay? Just stop." She pants out, still breathing heavily from going after Puck. She closes her eyes, resting her head against the lockers, and concentrating on calming down. When she opens her eyes she just starts at Rachel for a minute, trying to comprehend why the brunette has such an effect on her. How even just the presence of Rachel seems to calm her down, and the smallest of touches from her sends her heart racing.

"What?" Rachel asks, after Quinn's just been staring at her for quite a few moments.

"Nothing." Quinn replies, shaking her head to herself as she turns her back on Rachel to get her jacket from her locker. "It's just..." she begins again, turning and looking at Rachel for a few long moments, "...nothing." she sighs, slamming her locker door shut, she turns to leave stopping right in front of Rachel, the blonde moves to speak once more, but changes her mind at the last minute, spinning around and leaving the locker room without another word.

* * *

As Quinn finally pulls into her driveway, she has never in her life been so relieved to get home. All she wants to do is have a long, relaxing bath and then crawl into bed with book for the remainder of the evening. Just a nice, quiet, peaceful evening, with no distractions, no thinking about the pompous jackass -Puck, no thinking about Sam and Brittany arguing over two inches of space, no worrying about her mother. And absolutely no thinking of Rachel, and her sexy little smirk or how cute her laugh is, or what her hand was about to do this morning in her dream, and – dammit! she isn't even through her front door yet!

She stabs the key into the door, roughly pushing on the handle, she moves towards the living room where she hears Brittany and Sam talking excitedly, as she rounds into the room, she spots them rifling through some of the various boxes scattered around the room.

"Oh, this one is skin grafting!" Brittany yells excitedly, holding up one of the tapes.

"Skin grafting? Now way! I've never seen that done before." Sam says, equally excitedly as he moves around, taking the tape from Brittany's hand.

"Are those my mother's surgical tapes?" Quinn asks as she moves into the room.

Sam just turns to her smiling, pointing excitedly to the tape, "We should watch the skin grafting one first."

"Where did all this stuff come from?" Quinn questions angrily.

"Oh, I unpacked some of your mother's things. I was upset and when I'm upset I like to nest." Brittany explains, not picking up on Quinn's tone.

Quinn glares at her for a while, before beginning to move around the room, gathering up the picture frames Brittany's set out. On her part, the taller blonde's too busy rifling through the boxes again to pay much attention, "Oh! Hemipelvectomy!

Sam grabs the video from her, "I think we should watch this one first."

"No! No! We're not watching my mother's surgery tapes! We're not unpacking boxes! We're not having long conversations where we celebrate the moments of our lives!" she grabs a beer off of the coffee table and shoves it into Sam's hand, "And use a coaster!" she yells, shoving the bottle into his hands before starting to storm out of the room.

"I ordered Chinese food." Sam informs her.

Quinn's halfway up the stairs when she yells back, "I hate Chinese food!"

Leaving Brittany and Sam watching her go, and trying hard not to laugh at her petulance in fear of what she might do to them, but in the end they can help it and burst out laughing once they hear the distinct sound of the blonde's bedroom door being slammed shut.

* * *

Quinn makes plans to meet Santana early next morning, so she can vent about her roommates, who are seriously driving her crazy. They're walking towards the hospital, with some coffee in their hands while Quinn talks, "They're everywhere. All the time. Brittany's all perky and bright and Sam does this thing where he's all helpful and considerate. They share food and they say things and they move things, and they...they breath! Uh! They're like...happy. It's infuriating!"

"So just kick them out." Santana replies shrugging, like it's the simplest thing ever.

"I can't kick them out. They just moved in. I _asked_ them to move in." Quinn stresses. She knew it was a bad idea from the beginning. Fucking babies making her all gooey and hopeful.

"So what, you're going to repress everything in some deep dark twisted place until one day you snap and kill them?"

"Yep." Quinn resigns.

"See? This is why we are friends." Santana smiles at her, looking strangely proud of her.

Puck comes walking up behind them as they enter the hospital. "Why is the Nazi making us stay in the pit two days in a row?" He questions no one in particular.

"Leftovers." Santana tells him curtly.

Leftovers?"

"Gotta get the cyclists who were too drunk or too stupid or too scared to get themselves to a hospital yesterday." Quinn explains, because yeah, she may hate the guy but she still has to work with him, so completely blanking him isn't going to help.

"Meanwhile, she" He says pointing to Santana, "gets to do a freakin' organ harvest."

Quinn can't help but chuckle at how disgruntled he sounds, and Santana just smirks at him, "Oh, that kills you doesn't it?"

"What?" Puck asks in a bored tone.

"That two women got the harvest" Santana tells him.

The three of the stop in front of the elevator, waiting on it to arrive, as Puck continues, "No, it kills me that anyone got the harvest but me. Boobs do not factor into this equation. Unless you want to show me yours." He leers at both of them.

The two girls exchange disgusted looks, "I'm so going to become a fully fledged lesbian." Quinn deadpans.

"Me too." Santana quickly agrees as they both move off to take the stairs instead.

Puck just smirks, "Sounds just as good to me." He yells after them; as he gets onto the just arrived elevator.

* * *

Quinn and Puck have been in the pit for a couple of hours already, mostly just suturing up patients wounds, and really the amount of paperwork involved is way too much fill out for just a couple of sutures. Quinn makes her way to the main desk in the area, where Puck has been sat for the past twenty minutes filling in charts, she catches a familiar face sitting in the waiting room.

"What's Viper doing here?" She questions Puck.

"Probably crashed his bike again." Puck says, not bothering to look up from what he's doing.

"How long has he been waiting?"

"Don't know. I'm busy on real cases. He's all yours."

Quinn purses her lips and rolls her eyes at him, because seriously? This guy is such an ass. She turns around to approach Viper.

"Viper?" She asks on her way. He doesn't acknowledge her; she tries again, "Viper?" he's holding his side, and doesn't make any move to look at her. "Are you okay?" she begins to worry when he still doesn't look up and begins to cough, trying to get to his feet. Quinn realises it's pretty bad with how unsteady he looks trying to get up, she rushes to his side, just as he falls, blood leaking from his mouth. "Viper!" she lifts his shirt to where she knew the wound was yesterday, and well...that is not something she's seen before, his side is a mess, his stitches have been ripped open and there's a huge lump, and it's just...

Everything that happened next is pretty much an adrenaline fuelled blur for Quinn, other staff arrived, they got viper onto a gurney, but they couldn't hold the wound closed from the angle they were working, so without thinking Quinn climbed onto the gurney, straddling her patient to put enough pressure on the wound to keep it closed.

"Call up to the OR and tell them we're coming. And page Dr. Beiste!" she tells to the trauma nurse next to her. As the nurse runs off, Quinn turns to Puck, "Puck let's go." Except he doesn't move, "PUCK! Push the damn gurney!" Quinn yells at him from her place on top of her patient. He finally seems to snap into action and starts to push the gurney with the help of a nurse. "Hurry. I don't know how long I can keep the wound closed."

After what seems like an age they finally reach the OR, where there's already a surgical team prepping. Dr. Beiste looks up from getting her gloves on, spotting Quinn sitting on top of the patient as he's wheeled in and looking surprised for a moment. "Well, this is a new one. Somebody get her off my patient." Quinn climbs off, her gloved hands covered in blood "Ah Quinn, go get cleaned up and scrub in. Puck go back downstairs."

"But I helped." Puck whines, rushing to get a surgical mask on.

"Helped? Yeah they tell me down in the pit that you only wanted to take the hot cases. In every pack of interns there's always one fool that's running around trying to show off and Puck. This time that fool is you. Get out!" she yells at him, he rips the surgical mask he'd put on seconds before off as he storms out of the room.

* * *

After the surgery, Dr. Beiste, along with Quinn make their way to update Viper's friends on his condition, they find them in the main waiting area of the hospital, laughing and joking around with one another.

"This lovely group's his friends?" Beiste asks Quinn, who just nods her head as she watches them, Beiste turns back to the group, "Uh you all belong to..." she trails off unsure of his name.

"Viper." Quinn supplies for her.

"Viper?" Beiste repeats.

"Yeah, we were in the race" One of his friends says.

"How is he, is he okay?" another asks.

"Is he okay? No. No, he is not okay. At all. He hurled his body down a concrete mountain at full speed for no good reason." His group of friends all look slightly stunned at her bluntness, wisely choosing to keep their mouths shut. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you all pierce yourselves and smoke up and generally treat your bodies like your grungy asses can't break down." She continues, getting more and more worked up. "Hey now, that's fine. You want to kill yourselves, flying down a concentrate mountain, go do it. But there are other people, people walking, people driving, people trying to live their lives on that concentrate mountain, and one of them got his brains scrambled today because one of you little sniffling no good snot rag-"

"Dr. Beiste!" Quinn interrupts, because she may not be a resident, but she's pretty sure they shouldn't talk to their patient's friends like that.

"Yeah, yeah so okay, no! Your friend Viper, as far as I'm concerned is not okay." She finishes, before storming off, leaving Vipers friends stunned.

"She's um...really tired," Quinn tries to smooth over, "But Viper's going to make it. He's gonna live."

"Cool", "Thanks" His friends reply simultaneously, looking kind of relieved in their own ways.

* * *

Rachel's just managed to get away from Dr. Scheuster long enough to grab some lunch with Kurt, a fellow intern. He may have only started a few weeks ago, but they immediately struck up a solid friendship, mostly due to their shared love of Show tunes. Plus their shared dislike for their Resident, Dr. Ken Tanaka, a greasy, sleazy chauvinist man.

They're sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria, mostly so Kurt has a full view of the room, in case any dishy available gay men walked past – His words not hers. She sees Quinn walk in. She hasn't had the chance to talk to her since their conversation in the locker room yesterday...if you could even call that a conversation. She tracks the blonde as she queues to get her food, before walking to sit at a table with a pretty brunette, who she's pretty sure is called Santana.

She actually totally forgets she was even sitting with Kurt until he places his head closer to hers, following her line of vision, "Is that her?" he whispers.

She jumps out of her Quinn induced haze, turning to look at Kurt, "Yeah" she breaths out, "That's her."

"I must say. I'm impressed. I may be gay, but even I can appreciate a girl with such perfect bone structure." He tells her honestly. "So has she said yes to you yet?"

"No." Rachel tells him glumly, flopping back in her chair. "She thinks I'm only interested in the thrill of the chase. She seems to think it's all just a game to me."

"Is it?" He asks her seriously.

"No. I mean...yeah my shifts defiantly brighten anytime I get to flirt with her. But..." She trails off, unable to find a way to aptly describe it.

"There's a lot more to it than that?" He supplies.

"Yeah. She has this crazy notion that she only made it onto the program because of the fact she's Judy Fabray's daughter, which is crazy, because I've see her work, she's incredible, and she actually cares about patients which as a surgical intern you can appreciate how rare th-."

"Wait." Kurt interrupts, placing his hand on her forearm, "Did you say the daughter of Judy Fabray? Like _the _Judy Fabray?!" he asks wide eyed.

"Well yeah. But I didn't find that out until after she started here." Rachel says shrugging her shoulders, because honestly she doesn't really care so much who Quinn's mother is.

"I can't believe I'm friends with someone who's slept with the offspring of surgery royalty." He muses, sitting up a little straighter in his seat, brushing his perfectly styled hair back.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise me you won't? I may not know Quinn so well, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't want her private life discussed at the hospital. Please just promise you won't say anything." She begs her friend.

"Okay, okay. I won't tell anyone." Kurt reassures the brunette, staying silent as she scrutinises him for any signs of him being dishonest, when she seems to be satisfied of his sincerity, he speaks again. "Have you told her?"

"Told who what?" Rachel asks, distracted by the blonde across the room again.

Kurt rolls his eyes at the smaller brunette, clicking his fingers in front of her face until she focuses on him again, "Have you told Quinn that it isn't a game for you?"

"Well...No." Rachel replies, furrowing her brow, because well, when he says it like that, she realise she probably should have told her..."Not yet."

"Perhaps you should let her know sooner rather than later sweetie." He voices her thoughts "Now." He says perking up satisfied he's sorted out Rachel's troubles, he subtly pointing to a male nurse standing at the salad bar, "Gay or not?"

* * *

"I never liked harvesting." Dr. Martinez tells Santana and Brittany as they stand side by side in the scrub room prepping for the organ harvest.

"Why?" Santana questions.

"Like I told you earlier, I'm a surgeon. I save lives. This...it ends one." He tells her.

They walk into the OR, the scrub nurses coming to place their gloves on over their hands, while Brittany moves off over next to the patients head. She leans down close to his ear, whispering through her mask, "I know you tried, so no hard feelings okay?" As she straightens up she see's Santana giving her an inquisitive look, and she rushes to explain, "I was just..."

"You were saying goodbye." Dr. Martinez says understandingly.

She nods at him, as he takes his place at the side of the patient, ready to being; Brittany moves around to Santana, "I'm not going to stay." She tells the brunette.

"It's your job. You have to." Santana tells her, confused why a surgeon wouldn't want to watch a surgery first hand.

"You're better at this part than me. I don't want to watch him get taken apart. I mean look at the vultures." She gestures to various other doctors in the room, who are waiting to take the organs to different hospitals, "Waiting to pick him clean."

Santana looks at her closely for a few minutes, before softening her voice, "Hey, every last one of them represents someone, somewhere who's going to live because of Kevin. His death isn't going to be in vain. He's going to save people." She stays next to Brittany a little longer; until Santana's positive she's absorbed the information, "Now come on, Martinez promised we could hold the retractors for him." But she doesn't move any closer until she sees Brittany nod her head in consent.

Brittany doesn't want to admit it, but being allowed to assist in the surgery was kind of amazing, and she just kept in mind what Santana had told her throughout, so each time one of his organs was taken away, even though she felt a little sad, she just imagined the joy and relief that organ would bring someone else and their family and it helped, it really helped.

As the surgery comes to an end, Dr. Martinez leaves, leaving the patient open on the table, presumably for a nurse to come and finish off. Which really doesn't sit well with Brittany, anyone else who had been operated on, would have a surgeon finish the job. So even as everyone else leaves the room she stays.

"Britt?" Santana calls for her with a concerned tone, turning back from the door.

"I'm going to sew him up. For his family." Brittany tells Santana.

She doesn't expect the brunette to come stand on the other side of the table and help her. But she's really glad that she does.

* * *

As Quinn changes out of her scrubs, in the intern locker room, she's busy thinking about how today, wasn't actually that bad, because yeah, Puck may have got to be part of open heart surgery yesterday, but today she actually saved a guy, well Beiste did the surgery, but still she helped with that. She told Puck yesterday that Viper could have internal bleeding, and again her gut instinct was right. So Puck can brag about his 'awesomeness', and taunt her about her mother all he likes, because regardless of what he says...she's still a better doctor than him. At least she cares.

She's in the middle of packing up the last of her things before heading home for the day when she hears the locker room door open and close behind her. She doesn't bother to look up, because honestly? The door is continuously opening and closing with interns rushing back to collect something they've forgotten, and the vast majority of the time it isn't anyone she cares to speak to.

"It's not the chase." It's soft, and Quinn's so lost in thought she barely hears it, but she would know that voice anywhere.

"What?" Quinn asks turning to face Rachel, who's standing uncharacteristically shyly by the door.

"You and me. It's not...'the thrill of the chase'." She quotes, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "It's not a game. It's..." she walks up to Quinn slowly, staring at her intently "It's your eyes." She finishes simply.

The smallest of smiles pulls at Quinn's lips, because yea...she wasn't expecting that, "My eyes?"

Rachel nods, "Your eyes." She confirms, "And also your hair." She adds as an afterthought.

"My hair?" Quinn repeats her smile widening.

"It smells good." Rachel shrugs easily, "Plus you're very, very bossy...Keeps me in line." She says, as they continue to stare at one another, the brunette's eyes flicking between Quinn's hazel ones, and her soft pink lips.

"I'm still not going out with you." Quinn mumbles. But really even she can tell that the conviction in her voice has considerably weakened, especially with the brunette looking like she's about to kiss her.

Rachel just nods slightly, smiling lightly, "You say that now..." she trails off as she turns around and walks out of the door, leaving a smiling and blushing Quinn behind.

_**There's another way to survive this competition. A way that no one ever seems to tell you about. One you have to learn for yourself. Number five: It's not about the race at all. There are no winners or losers. Victories are counted by the number of lives saved.**_

Quinn approaches her front door slowly, because really, she hasn't seen that much of Sam and Brittany today, not since she shouted at them yesterday, and she kind of feels a little bad for taking her bad day out on them (even if their arguing was what kicked it off). She isn't entirely sure her pride will let her apologies to them, but she still doesn't want things being awkward. She takes a deep steadying breath as she pushes open the door. She closes it behind herself quietly, hearing Brittany's excited voice as soon as she enters the house.

"Oh okay, this is the best part. Watch. This is where she pulls a block of skin down over the face." Brittany explains to Sam and Santana, as they're sprawled around the living room, drinking beer and eating pizza. She watches from the side for a few minutes, until they finally notice her standing there.

"We were-" Sam begins as he's searching for the remote control to switch the video off.

"Hi" Quinn says simply, with a light smile.

Sam eventually finds the control, pausing the video, and setting his beer down onto a coaster, looking sheepishly up at Quinn, "...we were just..Um..." he stumbles for an excuse, "Santana made us!"

"Shut up Trouty!" Santana shouts at him for basically dropping her in it, she doesn't even live her, how would she have made them?

Quinn rolls her eyes at them; I mean she isn't _that_ scary... "What are we watching?" She asks sitting down between Sam and a very smiley Brittany, grabbing the remote and letting the video play again, "Oh, this is the one where my mother-

"Literally pulls this guy's face off!" Brittany interrupts, sounding way too excited about it.

"Yeah" Quinn agrees, grabbing a slice of pizza from the box resting on Brittany's legs.

"Come on!", "Augh" Sam and Brittany yell disgusted, covering their face with a cushion.

"Holy Crap!" Santana yells in amazement, while waving her slice of pizza at the television.

And really all Quinn can do is just laugh at them, because yeah, they annoy her, and get her caught up in crazy plots and plans to undermine their attendings, but they're her friends, they understand when she's had a bad day, and they allow her to take some of the frustrations out on them, and still don't expect her to say sorry and grovel for forgiveness. Maybe they aren't such bad roommates after all.

_**And once in a while, if you're smart, the life you save could be your own.**_

* * *

_**P.S. Happy Holidays everyone!**_


	4. No Man's Land

Here you go, Chapter 4 of Fabray's Anatomy!

I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter if I'm honest, but still I hope you enjoy.

It's also really loosely edited, so sorry for any mistakes, but I wanted to get it up as soon as possible for you guys, and don't have the time right now to give it a thorough read through.

Thank you again for all the support with this story, it's good to know you're all enjoying it.

And lastly 'Pao-reader' (sorry but your a guest account so I couldn't reply directly to you.) Shue is basically the head of Neurosurgery, because I decided to have Rachel as a fellow intern, I needed another senior surgeon (So there isn't really any direct character in greys that he plays).

* * *

_**Intimacy is a four-syllable word for, "Here are my heart and soul. Please grind them into hamburger and enjoy." **_

It's just after 3 on a rainy morning, Quinn has barely slept. Turns out the message she received from the nursing home the other day was about her mother's care, and how she owns them money. She's sat in her mother's office...except it's kind of her office now she guesses, at the large desk, looking out into the rain writing out the cheque to Roseridge Nursing Home, and honestly it just depresses her. Everything to do with her mother depresses her right now.

She spent her whole life with a mother who never wanted to spend any time with her and now, she has a mother who doesn't even remember her. Well she does remember her, but in her mother's mind Quinn's still a 5 year old girl. She's been to visit her mother three times in the past week, and not on any of the visits did her mother know who she was, of course she tries not to let her affect her...but it isn't always easy.

On top of that she's working in a hospital, where she is trying to live up to her mother's renowned career in surgery, in order to impress her boss, who is her mother's one time best friend, while simultaneously trying to prove to everyone else in the hospital that she didn't just get onto one of the top surgical programs in the country because of who her mother is.

She finishes up writing the cheque, leaning back in her chair, trying to think of a way to just...try and forge some kind of...connection with her mother, something to link the person she is now to the person her mother remembers.

_**It's both desired and feared. Difficult to live with...and impossible to live without.**_

Meanwhile Sam is busy having his morning shower, because he's realised it's one of the few ways to actually wake himself up at such a ridiculous hour. Although another way to wake up quickly is to have someone burst in on your while you're trying to shower...

"Uh, excuse me! Excuse me!" Sam yells from the shower, as he notices Brittany walk in.

Brittany doesn't take any notice, just walking over to the sink, grabbing a toothbrush, putting some toothpaste on it and walking back out brushing her teeth.

He watches her leave, covering his uh...important bits and looking over his shoulder, "Is that my toothbrush?!" he yells after her, although Brittany is apparently to busy dancing to the song in her head to take any notice.

_**Intimacy also comes attached to life's three R's: Relatives, Romance and Roommates.  
There are some things you can't escape.  
**_

Quinn's still sitting at the desk in the study, She finds herself flicking through an old photo album, thinking that perhaps it might help with her mother, when Brittany enters, dressed in just a t-shirt and panties, she comes to a stop standing right next to where Quinn's sitting, Brittany still with the toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

"Coffee?" she asks Quinn, the shorter blonde turns to answer, but comes face to face with Brittany's underwear. She quirks an eyebrow, before looking up to meet Brittany's eyes...

_**And other things you just don't want to know.  
**_

"Hello, Kitty." Quinn says, in reference to Brittany's choice of panties. "Coffee would be great thanks Britt." She smiles.

"No problem." She mumbles around her toothbrush, bouncing out of the room as quick as she'd entered. Quinn just shakes her head in amusement as she watches her go, not understanding how someone could be so energetic, so early in the morning.

* * *

It's 4:30 am when the three of them turn up to the hospital in Quinn's jeep, it's actually still dark, the whole drive Quinn had to listen to Sam and Brittany bicker about her walking into the bathroom while he was trying to shower. Quinn decides it's perhaps not the best idea for them to carpool every day, because really, she needs some time away from the bickering.

"You don't understand. Me gonads. You ovaries." Sam says, irritation coating his tone as he climbs out of the car.

"Oh! That reminds me, we're out of tampons." Brittany talks over him as she hops out from the passenger seat.

Even as he's continuing with his sentence. "You're parading through the bathroom in your underwear when I'm naked in the shower."

"Can you add it to your shopping list, please?" Brittany asks sweetly, seemingly not having heard a word of Sam's protests.

"What?" he snaps.

"Tampons."

"To the list, it's your turn." Quinn helps out, as the three make their way towards the hospital.

"I am a man! I don't buy girl products! I don't want you walking in while I'm in the shower, and I don't want to see you in your underwear."Sam yells from behind the two girls, as they both share an amused look.

"It doesn't bother me okay? Look at me in my underwear, Sam. Take your time. It's no big deal." Brittany shrugs while they enter the hospital.

They head straight to the intern locker room to get changed into their scrubs, Sam complaining the whole way, although Quinn kind of learned how to tune it out, (hey don't judge her, it was one of the few ways she's realised she can survive living with them).

Considering they've been working at Seattle Grace for a few weeks now today marks the first official day of the interns doing morning rounds; presenting surgical cases straight to their seniors. Dr. Beiste decided to give them one of her long winded speeches, so they all know what she expects of them, "...You are the first person they see in the morning. You say please. You say thank you. You apologize for waking them up." She's walking past the door when it opens behind her, Puck entering late, which earns him a glare from Beiste as she continues. "You make them feel good about you. Why is that important? Cause then they'll talk to you and tell you what's wrong. Why is that important? Because then you can tell you're attending what they need to know during rounds. Any why is that important? Because if you make your resident look bad, she'll torture you until you beg for your mama. Now get out there. I want pre-rounds done by 5:30am."

Brittany brushes past Puck, in a tight fitting tank that doesn't fully cover her midriff, "Morning, Dr. Model." Puck greets as he ogles her.

"Dr. Evil spawn." Brittany greets curtly.

Puck picks up his penlight, shining it at the small sliver of skin exposed on Brittany's stomach "Oh, nice tat. They airbrush that out for the catalogs?"

"I don't know. What do they do for the 666 on your skull?" Brittany retorts as she pulls her scrub top on, before walking off, she passes Quinn and Santana on her way, Quinn venting to Santana about her lack of good surgery patients.

"I better get good patients today. Yesterday I had two guys with colostomies who needed dressing changes every 15 minutes.

"I'm gonna be in surgery. Today's my day." Santana states confidently.

"On what?" Quinn questions, turning from rummaging through her locker to face the girl.

"Like I'd tell you." Santana response leaning back against her locker, already dressed to work.

Quinn studies her closely, narrowing her eyes, "What do you know?"

"I know that I was here at 4am and you didn't get her until 4:30." She states smugly.

"Tell me."

"No." Santana insists, pushing herself off the locker and walking to Quinn "So tell me how are you getting on screwing your fellow intern?"

She turns to Santana as they make their way towards the door, "I am not Screw-" She stops abruptly when she walks right into Rachel, who's busy at her own locker. "Why are you here so early? Didn't you work last night?" She asks the smaller brunette, Santana just smirks at her as she heads on out the door.

"It's cute that you're keeping tabs on me." Rachel grins, "I'm scrubbing in with Schuester on a Cordotomy at 5. It should probably be done by 6. You wanna grab some breakfast with me before your rounds?"

"I've already eaten." Quinn tells her, as she continues to the door.

Never one to be deterred Rachel follows along side, "What'd you have?"

"None of your business."

"You a cereal person? Straight out of the box? Or are you all fruit and Fibery?" Rachel can't help but laugh as she manages to pester Quinn to the point of earning an eye roll from the blonde, "Pancakes? Do you like pancakes?"

"Fine, leftover grilled cheese. Curiosity satisfied?" Quinn finally answers in a bored tone, trying to hide the effect Rachel's laugh seems to have on her.

Rachel scrunches her face up in disgust, "That's sad. It's pathetic. A good day starts with a good breakfast...Well a _really_ good day starts with - "

"Stop! Just stop flirting with me in the hospital. It's unprofessional." Quinn cuts her off, because seriously, if Rachel plants those imagines in her mind this quickly into her working say, she'll never make it through.

"I'm just an intern getting to know her fellow intern"

"She slept with the fellow intern."

"Barely knew her."

"And it should stay that way."

"You want me to be professional? I'll be professional"

"That's what I want." Quinn states firmly.

"Then that's what you get."

"You're going to be late for you Cordotomy."

Rachel stares at Quinn a little longer, before taking a quick look at her watch, "Nice talking to you, Dr. Fabray." She says, unnecessarily loud as she leaves.

* * *

Sometime later, as Quinn's walking along the corridor checking the charts outside of her patient's rooms, Sam's tagging along behind her, she's about to mention to him that if he has nothing better to do he could at least offer to help her, but he's still riled up from this morning so she decides to just let him continue venting. "There need to be some rules."

Quinn really doesn't get what the problem is, so she's highly amused by Sam's persistence with this, "So, what? We can walk around in our underwear on alternate Tuesdays? Or you could see bras but not panties? Or are you talking Amish rules? Because if you think you're gonna get Britt to cover herself from neck to ankle?"

"The amount of flesh exposed is not the point. You have to do something. It's your house."

"It's my mother's house." She retorts.

"Quinn." He sighs in frustration.

She turns to face him, smiling brightly because she think she's figured out what the real problem is here, "Do you like Brittany? Is that what this is about? Do you have a crush on Brittany?"

"Brittany? No. I don't like Brittany. Brittany?" He asks perplexed "No. She's not the one I'm attracted to."

Quinn raises an eyebrow at him, and asks inquisitively, "Not _the_ one. So, there's _a_ one?"

"This is not...Look, there just have to be some rules." He tells her seriously, they're conversation is cut short when they reach the nurses' station, which Beiste is sat at, having just gotten off the phone.

"Evans, Fabray, head down to trauma. Schuester needs you."

"Isn't Schuester in surgery?" Quinn questions.

"He got pulled before he could start." Beiste updates her.

Quinn just nods in acceptance, before running to catch up to Sam who's already on his way to the Trauma room. The pair enter the room, and their eyes immediately go to the patient laying on the gurney, with a neck brace and head secured so it can't be moved.

"Those look like?" Quinn begins, not quite believing what she's seeing.

"Nails." Dr. Schuester informs them, from his place at the top of the patients head, observing the area.

"Seven of them." Quinn's eyes flick over to the soft, strong voice of Rachel as she's sat at a monitor looking at the x-ray of the injuries. She's distracted by the brunette for a few seconds before quickly jumping into action, trying to help Dr. Schuester stabilise the patient.

"I can't see my hands." The patient says as he waves his own hands in front of his face.

Sam jumps back startled, "Oh my God! He's conscious!"

"Breathe deeply Sam, you won't pass out." Rachel goads him lightly. Not that she dislikes him or anything...okay so maybe she does a little, but it's not because of the huge almighty crush he has on Quinn. Which everyone knows about, except of course for Quinn...honestly it's not.

"Use 4mg's of morphine. Titrate up to 10. You know what? I don't want him to move." Schuester orders.

"I can't see." The patient repeats, beginning to panic slightly.

Quinn tries to put him at ease, "its ok. We need you to be very still Mr...?"

"Cruz. Jorge Cruz." Rachel let's her know. "He tripped and fell down a flight of stairs holding a nail gun." Rachel continues.

"Sick." Sam muses to himself.

"Somehow he managed to miss a blood vessel. That's a minor miracle. Optic nerve's been affected. Can you feel this?" Dr. Schuester enquires as he checks for feeling along the patients arm, "Numbness on his right side. What's our immediate concern?" He questions the interns.

"Infection." Quinn supplies immediately.

"Right. I wanna be pulling these nails out in the next half-hour. I need a CT."

"CT's are down." Rachel informs him.

"What?" Dr. Schuester asks dismayed.

"They exchanged them out last night. Computer's crashed; they'll have they up by 1." Rachel explains.

"Ah, typical." He vents, turning to his interns, "So what are our options?"

"An MRI?" Sam tries.

"Brilliant. The man's got nails in his head. Let's put him in a giant magnet." Rachel fumes at him. Before turning her attention back to Dr. Schuester, "You want films from threes axis points and a C-arm in surgery."

"Excellent!" Schuester tells her, clapping his hands together. "You guys dig up research and find out if this has ever happened before. Go!" he finishes pointing to Rachel and Sam.

"My wife, my wife." The patient utters.

"You wife is on the way, Mr. Cruz." Quinn reassures him gently.

"Stay with him, keep him calm and look for changes." Dr. Schuester tells Quinn, before leaving the room.

She manages to get Mr. Cruz moved into a more private room, and has him calm enough so she can ask him some questions and gain a full medical history from him. "You'd say your health's been good recently?"

"Maybe some headaches. Nothing compared to now. Sona, that's my wife, she'll say, "Why you think that call it a gun, moron?" She hates the damn thing." He jokes lightly, even managing to smile a little through the pain.

"With good reason." Quinn quips, hoping to keep the poor guys spirits up.

"Baby?" Quinn turns to the door, to find the source of the unknown voice, finding Rachel and another women, who she assumes to be Sona standing there, as the women makes her way into the room, Quinn moves out of the door, to give them some privacy, coming to a stop next to Rachel.

"I have to get back to looking at past cases of nail guns to the head; Dr. Schuester wants you to get a full history from her." The brunette informs her.

"Okay." Quinn whispers, smiling softly as she watches Mr. Cruz kiss his wife's hand.

"Thank you, Dr. Fabray." Rachel responds formally before leaving.

* * *

"So you're acting professional towards her. How's that working out for you?" Kurt questions as he takes a sip from his coffee.

"It's fine. It's going fine. I just treat her like any other intern I can't be bothered to talk to." Rachel replies, leaning her elbows against the railing as she and Kurt stand on the large walkway of Seattle Grace, looking out at the view.

"Except you're still desperate to get her into bed with you?" He replies, arching his eyebrow at her daring her to lie.

She huffs out a frustrate sigh, "It isn't about just wanting to get her into bed Kurt. I just want her to give me a chance. To go out with me, even if it's only one time, why can't she just give me that?"

"I don't understand how you ceasing all the flirting, and being all professional towards her will help you with that?" Kurt asks with a confused look on his face.

"She'll miss my flirty ways eventually." Rachel explains, smiling confidently.

"You seem awfully sure about that." He tells her.

She sighs again, the smile vanishing from her face almost immediately as she rests her chin on her hand, "I'm really not in all honesty. It's just wishful thinking."

Kurt smiles sympathetically at her, patting her on the back, unable to come up with any words of encouragement, especially since he hasn't actually spoke to the blonde. "I guess only time will tell. Now I'm sorry to cut this short, but Tanaka has me in charge of discharging patients today, so I have to run."

"It's alright. I better get back to check on Scheuster's Cordotomy patient anyways." She tells him, "Thank you though, for listening. I really do appreciate it Kurt." She tells him sincerely.

"Oh please, I'm only listening now so I can get all the firsthand details of the great Judy Fabray's daughter's dating life, when she finally succumbs to your charms." He smirks at Rachel, earning himself a laugh and an eye-roll as they part ways.

* * *

Once Quinn has Mr. Cruz settled and feeling comfortable, she takes his wife to one side to get a full history on his health. She finds out that in addition to the headaches her patient has been suffering with there's also been additional dizziness and disorientation over the past few months. She goes to find Dr. Scheuster, to inform him, knowing that all the signs point towards something, and being the pessimist that she is, in her mind it all points towards a brain tumour.

Dr. Scheuster seems to be more optimistic, telling her the chances are slim and that in all honesty it could be something as simple as Orthostasis. He tells her in his usual, caring and positive, yet condescending tone that it would probably be best for her to focus on helping him get the patient through having the nails removed before trying to find something else wrong with Mr. Cruz.

She scrubs in alongside him as they prepare for the surgery on Mr. Cruz, Rachel's already inside the OR with him doing some last minute prep making sure the patient is calm and has no final questions before he's giving his anaesthesia before his operation.

The chief has also joined them for the surgery, considering it's such a rare occurrence to have a patient whose shot themselves with a nail gun and remain conscious after, she talks those watching in the observation gallery through the operation, as Rachel and Quinn get to observe firsthand what Dr. Scheuster is doing. It's a slow, slow process, each nail has to be removed individually, at the exact angle in which it entered the skull to minimise causing further damage to the patient.

"Bleeding?" Schuester asks, looking over to Rachel after he removes the last of the nails.

"It's clean" Rachel tells him, looking at the monitor, showing the live brain scan of their patient.

"All right. Way to go, team. Good job, everybody. Thank you. I don't think we made it worse. The big question is the optic nerve. We'll know in the morning." He tells them all in a jovial tone, proud of the work they've achieved.

"Should I order the MRI?" Quinn asks him as they make their way to the scrub room to clean up after the surgery.

"He needs to stabilize. We'll do it tomorrow." Dr. Schuester replies, finishing up quickly and moving out of the room, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone, Quinn waits for the usual flirtatious comment from Rachel and is shocked when the brunette just finishes up and leaves without saying so much as a goodbye, leaving Quinn feeling...well disappointed.

She's explaining what happened to Santana as they make their way down a corridor, "I don't see what the big problem is, you told her you wanted to keep things professional, the dwarfs just doing what you asked." Santana tells her matter-of-factly.

"...I guess, yeah." Quinn replies, because really Santana's right, Rachel's only doing what she had wanted her to, but that doesn't explain why she would feel disappointed by that prospect.

"Besides, you can't possibly be having anything but a great day, you got to operate on Hellraiser! If I'd have known something as cool as that would be showing up in the ER today, I wouldn't have came in a 4am to steal the Whipple case."

"So that's what you had going on this morning!" Quinn remarks pleased with herself that she finally worked it out about what Santana was hiding.

"For all the good it did me. The woman's like some kind of institution here, everybody knows her and loves her, and she basically hates me. Oh and she apparently knows your mom, you should drop in and see her, make sure to tell her I sent you though. Maybe it will earn me some brownie points." Santana claims.

* * *

Quinn decides that maybe it wasn't the worst suggestion from Santana for her to drop in and see Nurse Fallon, except she always has a room full of people visiting her, so Quinn just stands hovering outside the door, even after they leave she hangs around awkwardly. That is until Nurse Fallon spots her, recognising her immediately.

"Oh. Your mum's a bigger woman."

"You were her scrub nurse?" Quinn queries.

"Liz Fallon. Come in." She tells the young blonde, holding out her hand.

"Quinn Fabray." She relies, smiling sheepishly as she walks into the room, shaking the pre-offered hand in her own. "She um...She wanted me to send her regards."

Nurse Fallon scrutinises her for a few moments before replying, "That doesn't sound like her."

"Excuse me?" Quinn asks, taken aback.

"Well, the Judy Fabray I know didn't have regards for anyone except Judy Fabray. But you know that already, don't you? Where is she now?"

"Travelling." Quinn answers curtly.

"Travelling?" Liz replies sceptically.

"Yeah."

"Huh...is she practicing?"

"Not so much."

"Oh. Doesn't sound like her, either. She was all work, just like me. She never left the hospital. But you know that too, don't you? Is she well?"

"She's fine...Just wanted to send her regards. Take care." Quinn tells her before scurrying out of the room quickly. She's so use to the lies about her mother falling easily from her mouth and having no one question her, until now that is. She was not in the slightest prepared to meet a woman for the first time, and have that woman know from the off that Quinn was lying about her mother.

* * *

After getting off work that evening, Quinn goes straight to the nursing home to visit her mother. She decided to bring the photo album she had been looking through this morning, hoping, someone that the pictures may trigger some memories, or bring her mother to the present, maybe make her lucid. They're standing together in front of a roaring fire, side by side, Quinn with the photo album in her hand, she turns to the first page slowly

"I think these were taken at the old house." Quinn says as she shows her mother the photo album. "There's you in your scrubs." She informs before flicking over to the next picture, showing a younger Quinn sat in a red wagon, her mother standing behind her and a man just off to the right.

"Who is that?" Judy questions, reaching out and pointing to the man in the picture.

"That's dad."

"Who?" Judy asks, furrowing her brows in confusion.

"Your husband. Russell Fabray. You called him Russ."

"Russ." She whispers.

"That's the red wagon he got me for my birthday. I'm about four years old in this photo. This is your family." Quinn explains to her, it's actually one of her favourite pictures, one of the few happy memories she has of her family.

"Sure, sure." Her mother answers, pretending to know what Quinn is talking about, although it's obvious to Quinn she still doesn't remember.

The younger blonde decides to change tactics; she closes the photo album again, since it isn't getting her anywhere, she turns to place it back in her bag as she tells her mother, "I saw Liz Fallon at the hospital today." She looks up quickly at the sound of her mother's joyous laughter, a sound she's heard maybe only a handful of times in her life.

"Liz? I love her! How is she? Is she still a scrub nurse? She was excellent."

Quinn tries not to feel hurt, she really does. She knows it isn't really her mother's fault, yet, she feels the small pang in her chest, the same one she feels every time her mother questions who she is, and that pain is stronger than ever.

Her mother doesn't remember her, she doesn't remember Quinn's favourite picture, or her father, but she can remember her scrub nurse. She really does try not to feel hurt, but it's difficult not to.

* * *

Come the next morning it's not a whole lot different from the one before, Brittany walked into the bathroom , while Sam is trying to shower, except this time she was looking for a tampon instead of a toothbrush. She's pretty pissed at Sam when she finds out that there are no tampons.

She's standing just outside of the shower, her back facing it, dressed in her usual house attire of panties and tight shirt, arms folded across her chest as Sam showers, "I reminded you before you went." Brittany sighs frustrated.

Sam just shrugs from inside the shower, "I forgot when I got there."

That pisses Brittany off more, she moves to the shower door, sliding it open, jabbing her fingers in at Sam who's scrambling to try and cover himself, "No. Noo. You were so passive-aggressive."

"Naked! I am naked in the shower!" He yells at her.

She slams the shower door closed again "They're just tampons Sam. I really need tampons. God!" Just then Quinn walks in, going straight to the cupboard under the sink. "I'm not riding in the same car with him." Brittany tells her, pointing towards Sam in the shower.

"Unless you're going like that, you're not riding with me either." Quinn retorts, searching through the cupboard, "Where are the tampons?" she asks when her search is futile.

"He didn't buy them."

"You didn't buy them?" Quinn shouts into Sam.

"Men don't buy tampons!" He replies.

Brittany and Quinn share a look of frustration, Brittany moving to the shower door again, pulling it open and telling him, "You know what? You are going to have to get over the man thing, Sam." Except she caught him by surprise this time so as he tries to preserve his modesty, he slides and falls, landing heavily in a heap, Brittany though is so incensed she doesn't take any notice continuing on with what she was saying, "We're women! We have vaginas! Get used to it." She slams shut the shower door again in anger.

"I am not your sister!" Sam shouts after them as they leave.

* * *

Quinn gives up on expecting Sam or Brittany to be ready to leave when she is, so she heads off to work without them, which is probably for the best because she honestly couldn't cope with the same bickering she had to sit through on the way to work yesterday. Plus she was kind of glad for the moments of peace and quiet that the drive to work alone offered her.

She's finished up most of her work for pre-rounds and is currently walking towards the room of Mr. Cruz, her patient from yesterday, or 'Hellraiser' as Santana so kindly refers to him, when a familiar brunette catches up with her.

"Grilled cheese again?" Rachel questions.

Quinn looks up from Mr. Cruz's chart, smiling as she answers, "Cold pizza."

Rachel smiles at her, holding her hand out to read over the chart herself, "Is he awake?"

"Even better." Quinn informs her as the make their way towards his room.

"Really? " She questions, facing Quinn as they enter, "Hi Sona" She greets the man's wife kindly "Jorge. How are you this morning?"

Before the man has a chance to answer his wife speaks up, "Tell them what color my dress is, Jorge."

"I'd know the answer to that even if I couldn't see." Jorge replies.

"So your vision is fine?" Rachel asks, pleased for the pair.

"I did some basic vision tests with him earlier this morning just to check, so yes everything looks good so far." Quinn informs her.

Rachel and Quinn share a small smile, before Rachel turns back to the patient, to continue with a few more basic memory tests, "Can you tell me what you had for breakfast on Monday?"

"Cheese omelette. And on Sunday. And on Saturday. And on Friday. Sona gets up every morning and makes me a cheese omelette." He replies easily, smiling at his wife.

"It's the only thing he likes. " Sona tells them, rolling her eyes.

He teases her, "It's the only thing you know how to cook."

"Okay, well, things look good. But Dr. Schuester requested an MRI this morning, just to check for any residual bleeding, okay?" Rachel questions, they both respond to confirm its okay, as Rachel hands the chart back to Quinn, "The MRI's booked for half an hour if you could bring him down then."

"Sure, no problem." She tells Rachel.

"Good. Thank you Dr. Fabray." The brunette replies, before leaving the room, and for the second time in as many days leaving behind a disappointed blonde.

Sadly for her patient, Quinn's pessimism seems to once again be warranted; during the MRI they found a tumour. She and Rachel accompany Dr. Schuester as he explains to Mr. Cruz and his wife that the best he can do is remove the tumour, well 99% of the tumour and use radiation and chemotherapy in order to prolong his life for anything between 5-10 years. He explains to them that because the tumour has very unclear edges that he would have to cut out a lot and the possibility of Mr. Cruz losing his memories are high, or the chance of his personality changing is just as high. And that the only other treatment would only offer another 3-5 years of life.

Quinn stands by the door as they discuss everything, and all she can think of is her mother, and how her losing her memory has affected Quinn, how alone Quinn feels in the struggle. She feels tears burn her eyes, and slips out of the room as quietly as possible, hoping to not be noticed. Except Rachel did notice her, and she followed her with concerned brown eyes as she walked out, but Quinn wanted their relationship to remain professional. And considering it would be anything but professional if she followed after Quinn to make sure she was okay, she decides to stay put, and keep her focus on the patient.

Quinn paces outside the room for a minute, deciding what to do next, trying to clear her mind, because honestly, the weight of the secret she's bearing for her mother is just too much right now, and she can't keep it to herself anymore. Which is probably how she now finds herself sat in Nurse Fallon's hospital room, watching over the older woman as she sleeps.

Slowly and groggily the woman wakes up, she doesn't notice Quinn straight away, but when she does she offers a sluggish, "Hey." To the young blonde.

"I told my mother about you." Quinn begins bypassing a greeting, "She remembers you very well."

"Of course she would. Judy Fabray never forgot a thing."

Quinn chuckles wryly "Mmm." She notices the strange look she's receiving from Nurse Fallon. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's not really funny. It's not funny, but..."

Nurse Fallon's face sobers as she observes Quinn's behaviour, "What's her diagnosis?"

Quinn stares at the woman for a while, wonder how she can see through her so easily, "Alzheimer's, early onset."

Nurse Fallow gives her a sympathetic look, "And she doesn't want anyone to know."

"No." Quinn confirms, shaking her head, "She's in a nursing home and I'm the only person she'll allow to see her."

"But if I know Judy Fabray, she made the nursing home sign a contract to that effect."

"You know my mother well." Quinn replies, impressed.

The older woman is silent for a few beats, just looking at Quinn, "What a bitch." She tells Quinn seriously. And really that's all it takes for Quinn to laugh all over again, the older woman joining in.

* * *

By mid-afternoon Brittany and Santana are lounging around in the hospital foyer, a place they usually come to avoid Puck and Sam, because for some reason neither of them would ever think to look here for them. Probably something to do with the fact it doesn't have food like the cafeteria offers, or the vending machines that the deserted corridor they hang out on offers.

"The woman's life was this hospital. It was her home. It's a sweet thing for them to do." Brittany tells Santana, in reference to Nurse Fallon.

"It's a waste of a bed, and it's a waste of my time." Santana retorts, stretched out on one of the mental benches.

"Who are we talking about?" Quinn asks as she reaches them.

Santana runs her fingers through her hair as she replies, "Liz Fallon. They brought her here to die."

"Wouldn't you want them to do the same thing for you?" Brittany probes.

"No!" Santana yells, as she reaches over to grab a magazine off a nearby table. "You know what. I'd want the doctors to do everything they could. I'd want them to cut me open until the minute I die."

"Sometimes doing everything can be worse than doing nothing." Quinn empathizes, reading through a textbook.

Santana comes to a stop in the magazine, which just so happens to be the advertisement that Brittany modelled for before she was accepted onto the internship, "You are eight feet tall. Your boobs are perfect. Your hair is down to there...if I were you. I'd walk around naked all the time. I wouldn't have a job." She continues, reaching the magazine to show Quinn "I wouldn't have skills. I wouldn't even know how to read. I'd just be naked." She tells Brittany seriously.

"It's mostly make-up and retouching." Brittany replies, shrugging her shoulders, like it's no big deal.

"You get that we hate you, right?" Santana jokes, causing Brittany to laugh, until her pager goes off.

"Beiste again." She informs the other two girls sadly. Mostly because she's been avoiding her patient, since he seems to have a problem with a former model practicing medicine on him.

"You know what? Any patient who spanks to his doctor's pictures forfeits his rights. You're seriously not gonna give up he prostatectomy, are you?" Brittany gives her a look, smiling sadly "Britt? Oh forget it. You know, sometimes it is actually, you know, painful to be around you." She deadpans.

* * *

Dr. Schuester let Quinn know that Jorge and Sona wanted the surgery, he was mostly telling her to offer her the chance to scrub in if she wished. However Quinn just couldn't show up for surgery and cut away this man's memories and personality, and let his wife take him home after. Not when she knows from firsthand experience how difficult it is for the people left behind, for the people who do remember. She tracks down his wife, hoping that if she could just explain, and make the woman understand just what she was letting herself in for. Quinn takes her a side, just outside of Mr. Cruz's room to talk to her, but she doesn't want to hear it, so Quinn tries again.

"Sona...You need to consider what you'll lose. What good is five years if he doesn't joke about your omelettes and he can't remember seeing you in that red dress?"

"It's still five more years." Sona tells her firmly.

Quinn can feel the tears burning her eyes as she continues to try and explain, "You don't understand. He'll be there, but he won't be Jorge. He won't even recognize you."

"This is our business."

"You have no idea what this will do to you. Isn't five years better than ten bad ones?" Quinn asks, begging the woman to understand, to see in Quinn's eyes that she knows exactly what this will be like for her.

Rachel approaches them just in time to hear the last part of the conversation, "Dr. Fabray! What the hell are you doing?"

Quinn turns to Rachel, "She needs to understand."

"I do understand. " Sona cuts in, "You think that I'm being selfish, that I don't want to give him up?"

"No. That's not what-"

She's cut off by an increasingly upset Sona, "This is Jorge's decision. And if that means ten bad years for me, fine. I'll give him those years, because I will give him whatever he wants."

"Look I'm so sorry, Sona. Just please forgive her, we're interns, we're still learning. We have a habit of getting emotionally involved. I really am sorry." Rachel intervenes, trying to calm the situation, to avoid any complaints being made against Quinn.

But Sona just turns to Quinn to finish what she has to say, "And if he doesn't remember me, if he doesn't remember what we are, he's still my Jorge. And I'll remember for us both."

"Okay, alright." Rachel says softly, taking Sona gently by the arm, leading her away from Quinn, who remains standing in the spot, trying to steam off the tears that are threatening to fall.

_**I wish there was a rulebook for intimacy. Some kind of a guide that could tell you when you've crossed the line. It would be nice if you could see it coming. And I don't know how you fit it on a map. You take it where you can get it...and keep it as long as you can.  
And as for rules?**_

Sam finishes up in the shower, pulling the door back and sliding a towel around his waist, as he steps out, he probably should be surprised to find Brittany sitting on the toilet, brushing her teeth, but honestly he really isn't anymore. He pauses deciding between shouting at her, (again) or letting it pass. He knows she had a rough day yesterday with Puck filling the walls of the intern locker room with posters from her modelling days. So he decides to let it slide. Realising there are more important things in the world.

"Better not be using my toothbrush." He mumbles to her on his way past.

"I'm not." Brittany replies. Although once she hears the door close she pulls it from her mouth and realises that actually it may well be Sam's. But still what he doesn't know can't hurt him.

_**Maybe there are none.**_

She spent an hour sitting in silence with Santana, Santana had a bad day, and she had a bad day, so they shared their bad days, not through talking about them, but by sitting in the presence of one another and just being quiet. Stuck in their own heads.

It was during this silence Quinn realised that maybe she'd been approaching everything with Rachel all wrong. Maybe holding the brunette at arm's length isn't working, well she_ knows_ it isn't working, because it's only been a day since she asked Rachel to keep things professional, and already Quinn misses hearing her name come from Rachel's mouth. Just one day of being 'Dr. Fabray' to the brunette and already Quinn misses being more. So she decides that maybe giving Rachel a chance wouldn't be the end of the world. Which is how she finds herself approaching the brunette as she changes at her locker.

She has this whole speech planned in her head about finally taking the brunette up on one of her countless offers of a date, but when she opens her mouth to recite the speech the only thing that comes out of her mouth is a breathless, "Yes."

"Yes?" Rachel questions as she turns to Quinn looking confused.

"I'll go out with you." Quinn rushes out. She really wants to kick herself; this is not at all what she had planned, but she might as well roll with it now.

If possible Rachel just seems to look even more confused, "You'll..." She trails off, repeating the phrase over again in her head, blinking owlishly, until it finally clicks and a bright smile appears on her face, "You'll go out with me." She repeats again slowly.

Quinn sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, "Are you just going to repeat everything I say?"

"I..." Rachel blushes, "I'm Sorry. You just...caught me unaware."

"You're kind of adorable when you blush." Quinn tells her, then blushes herself, because she hadn't actually intended on saying that out loud. They stand, smiling stupidly at each other for a few moments more, before Quinn breaks the silence, "So...when are you taking me out?"

Rachel smiles at her "Well..." She draws out, as she quickly thinks, "you're finished your shift right now aren't you? Wanna get some breakfast?"

"Right now? You really aren't wasting anytime are you?" Quinn retorts with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well I can't risk you changing your mind on me." Rachel teases, "So...Breakfast?"

"Breakfast" Quinn confirms with a grin.

Rachel rather respectfully, waits outside the locker room for Quinn as she changes out of her scrubs.

"Hi." The brunette breaths out, when the door finally opens, revealing Quinn, she gives the blonde a quick and subtle once over, "You look good."

Quinn quirks a brow at the brunette, "I just spent the night on call, I must look a mess."

"You look good Quinn." Rachel replies, "I wouldn't lie to you."

Quinn ducks her head as she feels a blush spread over her cheeks, clearing her throat as she looks up again, "So you're taking me to Breakfast?"

"Yeah. It's going to be the best damn Breakfast you've ever had." Rachel tells her as they begin to make their way through the corridors heading to the hospital exit, side by side.

"No reheated grilled cheese or pizza then?...Damn" Quinn pouts, "Those are always my favourite." She tries to keep a straight face, but once she catches the appalled look on Rachel's she can't help but laugh.

They decide to walk to the restaurant Rachel choose to take her too, it's only about four blocks from the hospital, but the crisp morning air kind of helps starving off the exhaustion a night shift inevitably brings. It's a quaint little cafe, with an outside garden area to eat in, and thankfully it's a nice enough morning for them to sit outside, neither of them fancying being cooped up indoors again after having been at the hospital all night.

The conversation between the pair flows easily, Rachel flirting lightly with the blonde, mostly because she loves the bright smile that always appears on Quinn's face when she does, especially when the blonde bites her lower lip to try and stop it. Except there's something that's been bugging her ever since Quinn approached her in the locker room.

"Can I ask you something?" Rachel asks, seriously while the pair are waiting for their food to arrive.

"You can ask me anything, but I can't promise I'll answer." Quinn teases.

Rachel grins at her, rather enjoying the less serious and flirty side to the blonde, "Why did you change your mind, about going out with me?"

Quinn pauses for a moment, gathering her thoughts in her head, before licking her lips and lifting a hand to tuck a loose strand of blonde behind her ear. "I like how you say my name." she answers simply.

"You like how I say your name?" The brunette repeats slowly.

"Ever since I told you I wanted things between us to be professional, you've called me Dr. Fabray... I just missed hearing you call me Quinn."

"Wait...let me get this straight." Rachel replies hotly, sitting forward in her chair, "I've been pestering you for weeks to go out with me, and you've refused but I call you Dr. Fabray for what? 24 hours and you cave?...God couldn't you have told me that earlier?" she asks exasperated.

Quinn just shrugs, a sly smile pulling at her lips, as she sits forward herself, so there's only a short distance between the two, "Yeah, but where is the fun in that?" she whispers quietly, her eyes flitting down to Rachel's lips for a split second, and just when the brunette thinks she's going to get lucky, Quinn just winks at her before leaning back in her chair.

Rachel flops back in her chair again, huffing out a laugh, "You're really just trying to drive me crazy aren't you?" they both smile politely to the waiter as he delivers their food to them, from then on the conversation flowed easily between the pair, teasing each other lightly as they eat.

"Can we do this again sometime?" Rachel asks as they make their way back down the sidewalk toward the hospital, so they can head home and get some well deserved sleep.

"Maybe." The blonde teases.

"Only maybe?" Rachel sighs playfully, "Guess I'll have to start calling you Dr. Fabray again then."

Quinn rolls her eyes, beginning to realise it probably wasn't the best idea to give Rachel that little tidbit of information, "Fine. Well do it again." She remarks, trying to sound disinterested, but she can't lie to herself and say she isn't excited by the prospect, because she really is.

Rachel purposely brushes her hand against the back of the blondes for the third time since they started walking, taking a deep breath and deciding now's as good a time as any, she tentatively reaches out, letting her fingertips brush softly against Quinn's palm, sliding downwards until she can lace her fingers between the blonde's. She releases the breath she didn't realise she was holding, when Quinn gives her hand a light squeeze.

_**Maybe the rules of intimacy are something you have to define for yourself.**_


	5. Shake Your Groove Thing

Hopefully there's a few things in this chapter that make up for the wait, it's slightly longer than previous, and there's some fluff, and a little bit of sexy times.

Also,** Quick question:** Brittany & Puck...should I go there? as in romantically?

Let me know what you think either here or you can ask on my tumblr (hopematter-x).

So yes, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_**Remember when you were a kid, and your biggest worry was, like, if you'd get a bike for your birthday, or if you'd get to eat cookies for breakfast? Being an adult? Totally overrated. I mean, seriously, don't be fooled by all the hot shoes, and the great sex, and the no parents anywhere telling you what to do. Adulthood is responsibility.**_

Quinn is exhausted. So exhausted in fact she even managed to fall asleep in the shower this morning, all she really wants to do is just crawl into bed and sleep the day away. But she's been summoned for a meeting at her mother's nursing home, plus Martinez is letting her scrub in on a heart surgery. So yeah despite how exhausted she is, she's already half way to the nursing home to get it over and done with so she can focus all her energy on the surgery she's been studying for.

One of the nursing home staff is currently telling her why exactly she's here, as Quinn sits with her back facing them, watching her mother sitting at a small table having some breakfast. She's barely paying enough attention to the woman.

"The lawyer has been managing the estate with a limited power of attorney, but your mother's Alzheimer's is advancing so while she's still lucid enough to consent," Quinn is relieved she's facing away from this woman, because she's pretty sure her eyes just drooped closed, "She needs to sign everything over to you."

Okay so that part got her attention, she turns around to face the staff member, "Me?" Quinn asked shocked. She must have heard wrong, she cannot possible be expected to take responsibility of her mother's estate.

_**Responsibility, it really does suck.**_

Quinn looks back to her mother again, before turning her body fully to face the woman in front of her, when she speaks her voice is still raspy from sheer exhaustion, "Look, I haven't slept in 48 hours. I'm getting my first shot at heart surgery this morning. I'm missing rounds. Are you sure there isn't anybody here, or the attorney? I mean, do I really have to be the one to handle this?" Quinn half pleads with the woman.

"We're talking about her estate, her finances, her medical care. You really want to leave her life in someone else's hands? She's your mother." The staff member tells her impassively.

_**Really, really sucks.**_

_**Adults have to be places and do things and earn a living and pay the rent. And if you're training to be a surgeon, holding a human heart in your hands… Hello! Talk about responsibility!**_

Quinn's finally getting her chance to help with a proper heart surgery, not just stand off to the side and watch or hold a retractor, but actually being allowed to actively participate in some way. Sure she had to practically beat Santana off the case with a stick, and she stayed up most of last night studying for the surgery and with the early morning visit to her Mother she's surviving on no sleep right now, and really considering a triple bypass is kind of a big deal she wishes she had been smarter and actually got some sleep.

Especially now, now that Dr. Martinez allows her to actually hold the heart. Yeah like actually holding the real, live, human heart in her hands.

She tries to do multiple things to keep herself more awake. Subtly of course so she doesn't alert Dr. Martinez to her struggle. She flexes her toes inside her runners, hoping just the small movement alone will help. She also actively asks Dr. Martinez questions, about why he chooses to use specific stitches over others.

When all else fails she takes a look up to the observation deck, she spots Sam, Santana and Brittany sitting next to one another, observing the procedure quietly, when Brittany notices her looking she flashes her a bright smile and a thumbs up, which she can't help but smile at. Santana doesn't offer her any sign of encouragement, only a glare, but really knowing Santana as long as she has now, she really doesn't expect anything different and doesn't take any offence to it.

After turning her attention back to Dr. Martinez to ask him another question, her eyes wander to the gallery again, where she spots Rachel sitting at the end of the back row of chairs next to Kurt, the brunette flashes her a bright, beaming smile when she catches Quinn's eyes, and it's enough to wake the blonde up a little.

A small part of her lack of sleep may actually be down to the brunette. Since their successful breakfast date last week, they've managed another 4 dates, which really isn't easy to do on an interns schedule, literally any free minute she has that isn't being spend working, or visiting her mother has been spent with Rachel. Sure it's mostly just been breakfast dates, all of which ended with soft, teasing kisses, but they did manage to find the time for one dinner date, which ended with a 40 minute make out session in the back-seat of Rachel's car.

Around 15 minutes after Rachel leaves, Quinn notices Dr. Martinez is almost done, and really she's never been more relieved, because yeah it's amazing, but she's been standing in the one spot for quite a while now fighting to keep her eyes open, and she really just needs a nap...or at least some coffee.

She makes the mistake of actually letting herself relax slightly when Dr. Martinez tells her they're almost done. Her eyelids feel heavy as she blinks, and she closes her eyes for a second, figuring just a second can't hurt.

Her head bobs down slowly and jolts up immediately. She clears her throat and shakes her head to waken herself up, trying to look like she didn't just drift off in the middle of open heart surgery with a woman's heart in her hands.

"What was that Dr. Grey?" Dr. Martinez questions her.

"Sorry, it slipped. My um...my hands." She stumbles out quickly.

"It's okay, I'm done. You can release Mrs. Patterson's heart now. Very gently. All right, let's warm her up. Get her off bypass." Dr. Martinez says, looking at the monitors.

_**Kind of makes bikes and cookies look really really good, doesn't it?**_

"I wish I could hold a heart." Sam sighs dejectedly as he watches Quinn gently place the heart back into the chest cavity, from the observation deck.

"A monkey could hold a heart." Santana tells him, her voice laced with jealousy.

Sam looks at her and smirks, "You're just mad Martinez didn't ask you."

Brittany, who's been busy looking at the notepad on her lap, quickly senses Santana may kill the blonde boy and interjects quickly, "Sam, I need more ice and chips."

She's successful in averting their attention to her, when Sam turns to ask, "Who else did you invite?"

"Britt, we said the list was jocks only. Surgery, Trauma and Plastics. Who else?" Santana asks.

"Just some people from Peds." Brittany shrugs.

"You invited the preschoolers to Quinn's house? The next thing you'll say is you invited the shrinks." Santana complains, when she notices Brittany looking away guiltily she groans and turns to Sam, "She invited mental defects. This party's DOA."

"You know, Quinn thinks this is just going to be a little, small, meet-your-boyfriend cocktail thing. Did you clear this with her?" Sam asks the blonde timidly.

"No. But I will." When she receives a disbelieving look from Sam and Santana she promises she will.

"Why are you wasting the only weekend your boyfriend is in town on a big party? Is he bad in bed?" Santana questions.

Brittany chuckles, "No. I just want him to meet some of my friends."

"Right, sixty geeks in scrubs are your friends." She's interrupted when her beeper goes off; she checks it quickly before getting up to leave, "Bad sex, sucks for you." She winks at the blonde as she makes her way out of the gallery, passing Puck on her way out.

"I heard there was a party tonight at Quinn's house." He questions Sam and Brittany.

Brittany and Sam share a quick look, "Uh, news to me." Brittany tells him.

"No party" Sam denies.

He nods his head at the pair, not quite believing them, "Are we losing her or what?" He questions looking down at the OR.

Mrs. Patterson's heart hasn't started to beat on its own yet, Dr. Martinez is trying everything he can to get it to go, including shocking the heart directly with paddles. It takes 3 tries before they finally get a heart rhythm, allowing them to sew her up and end the surgery. He tells Quinn to keep a close eye on her, clearly worried that she isn't out of the woods yet.

It isn't until she's washing up in the scrub room alone that Quinn notices her fingernail has pierced through her surgical glove.

_**The scariest part about responsibility? When you screw up, and let it slip right through your fingers…**_

She doesn't tell anyone and really the pressure is starting to wear her down. I mean she popped a glove in surgery, while holding a person's heart! What if she damaged it in some way? There's a thousand thoughts running through her head as she makes her way along the corridor with Sam in tow, when she spots Rachel waiting at the nurses' station.

"Hey" Rachel greets her with a bright smile, "How was your CABG with Martinez? Was it amazing holding the heart?" Rachel questions.

"Yeah" Quinn replies distractedly, giving the brunette a weak smile.

"I hear you never forget your first time." She sends the blonde a flirty wink, an action that usually causes Quinn to at least roll her eyes, but the blonde again just sends her a weak smile.

It's Sam who's eager to integrate himself to the conversation, who replies. "It was pretty great just to watch, vicarious thrills you know?"

"Yeah." Rachel responds because she's now distracted by concern for the blonde. "Hey Quinn...I um, I could really use your help with...something?"

"Sure" Quinn replies.

"Well um maybe I could help, you know if you need." Sam again butts in.

"Its fine thanks, girl stuff you know? See you later." Rachel brushes him off quickly, leading Quinn onto an empty elevator.

"Bye." Sam responds dejectedly as he watches them leave.

They get onto the elevator, Rachel leans against one of the walls, observing the stoic blonde, who's standing with her arms crossed facing the door. "Are you okay?" She questions softly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." Quinn tells her a little too quickly to be believable.

"Are you sure, 'cause you seem...not okay."

"I'm fine, it's just the CABG was long, you know?"

Rachel just nods her head, she doesn't believe the blonde, but she's learnt enough about Quinn over the past few weeks to know that if you give her time the blonde will talk when she's ready. "You look tired, when did you last sleep?"

"I honestly don't even remember" Quinn sighs, just as the elevator comes to a stop.

"Come on..." Rachel says, grabbing Quinn's hand and leading her off the elevator. She drops her hand when they reach a busier section of the hospital, she doesn't want to, but she knows how important it is to Quinn that whatever they have going on in their personal lives stays between them.

"Where are we going?"

"To get you some sleep, you're never going to function otherwise."

Rachel practically speed walks along the corridor, with Quinn following dutifully along, so exhausted she can't even summon the energy to argue that she doesn't have time to sleep, that she has to check on her patients.

The brunette leads Quinn to one of the on call rooms, which is thankfully empty. She locks the door after ushering the blonde inside, hoping to earn Quinn even a few moments of undisturbed sleep.

Quinn flops onto the bottom bunk, kicking off her shoes in the process, her eyes closing almost automatically as soon as her head hits the pillow. She feels the bed dip behind her and the light weight of Rachel's arm wrap around her stomach, pulling her closer. She practically melts into the brunettes arms instantly, feeling her warm breath against her neck. And honestly, with Rachel's arm wrapped around her it's the first time in too long she actually allows herself to fully relax and drift off for a quick nap.

A little later she wakens with a start to the sound of the on-call room door opening. She no longer feels the dead weight of Rachel's arm around her, and when she rolls over to see who came through the door she realises why, as the brunette smiles are her apologetically, a cup of coffee in hand, closing the door again behind her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to waken you." The brunette tells her softly, making her way towards the bunk, to sit next to the blonde.

"It's okay, how long have I been asleep for?" Quinn asks her voice thick with sleep.

Rachel checks her watch quickly, "just under an hour, don't worry though I went and checked on your patients, everything's fine." She reaches Quinn the paper cup in her hand, "Here I brought you coffee, figured you'd need it."

Quinn puts on hand over her mouth, stifling a yawn as she takes hold of the cup in her other hand, "Thanks." She smiles at the brunette sitting next to her, pausing for a split second before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Rachel's cheek.

They share a small smile before Rachel speaks again, "Do you feel better now? With some sleep?"

She nods her head a little, before pausing, turning the brunette next to her, "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course you can."

"I um...I think...I think maybe I did something...to the heart when I was holding it. I nodded off a little. Squeezed it."

"Oh, the heart's a tough muscle. It could take a squeeze or two." Rachel reassures her easily.

"My fingernail popper the glove. Cut straight through." She stares straight ahead as she tells Rachel, and misses how the brunette eyes widen in surprise. "Rachel...what if I punctured Mrs. Patterson's heart?" she asks, finally turning to face Rachel.

The brunette's quick to take hold of Quinn's hand, giving it a little squeeze, "If..._if_ you had punctured it, you would have known when they reperfused. They got her heart beating, the woman's okay."

"So I shouldn't tell Martinez?"

"Tell him what? You know, um, nothing happened. The woman's okay right?"

Quinn hesitates for a few moments, "She's okay."

"She's fine, okay? I've just been to check on her. Her Hemodynamics stable and her cardiac output is at 5. She's fine."

"She's fine." Quinn repeats, smiling slightly at how easy Rachel seems to be able to clam her. Leaning in she presses her lips to the brunette's, her hand slipping behind Rachel's neck and her fingers weaving through thick dark hair. She feels the gently brush of Rachel's tongue against her bottom lip, and doesn't hesitate in parting her lips and eagerly meeting the brunettes tongue with her own. The pair only breaking apart when the need for oxygen becomes too much.

Rachel leans her forehead against Quinn's, brushing some blonde hair behind her ear. "Will you let me take you out to dinner tonight? You can tell me all about getting to hold a heart. There'll be real food, waiters, big chunks of carbs in a basket."

Her lips twitch up in to the smallest of smiles, before she regretfully tells Rachel, "I can't."

"Ah, forgot about the party."

"You know about the party?"

"Your friends will be at the party. You and I can be alone somewhere else." She teases, tickling down Quinn's neck with her fingertips.

"How do you know about the party?" she asks incredulously, pulling back to get a better look at Rachel.

The brunette ignores Quinn's question, narrowing her eyes playfully at the blonde, "Thanks for not inviting me, by the way. That felt good." She teases, smiling when Quinn rolls her eyes. "Dinner. Think about dinner, perfect opportunity."

"Well-" She begins before her beeper goes off, she looks at it quickly and her stomach drops when she reads the screen. "I have to...I hav-" She doesn't finish her sentence before quickly putting her shoes back on and rushing from the room.

She runs as fast as she can, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to all the cheerleading training she use to put herself through, reaching Mrs. Patterson's bedside in less than a minute.

"What happened?" She asks one of the nurses.

"She started having some swelling over the sternum and then the blood just started gushing. Dr. Martinez is on his way right now."

"Is she dying?" the woman's husband asks anxiously from his position behind Quinn.

"Somebody get him out of here. Keep applying pressure." Quinn orders.

Thankfully Dr. Martinez appears on the opposite side of the bed from her and takes over, "Tyler, call for an OR. What the hell happened? She got a protamine"

"Her protocol. No allergic anaphylactic or histamine responses." Quinn replies, sighing heavily because god this could be because of her.

"Her last counts?" Martinez questions her.

"BT, PTT, INR, platelet counts were all stable. Even her HNH were stable."

"What the hell went wrong?" He murmurs, taking a hold of the side of the bed and pushing it, "Let's move."

Quinn stands in place a few moments longer, deciding she has to come clean "I popped a glove...In surgery, when I was holding it. I popped a glove with my fingernail. I think I may have nicked her heart." Quinn explains in one breath.

He gives her a hard stare for a few moments, before looking over her shoulder, when she turns to see what's taking his attention she notices Mrs. Patterson's husband standing behind her, having heard her confession. _Shit_.

"Let's go, people." Dr. Martinez barks, leaving Mr Patterson to look on as they wheel his wife towards the OR.

* * *

"You had every opportunity to speak up before I closed her chest. Every opportunity. Suction."

"I'm sorry." She's been getting told off for a good hour now, between wheeling Mrs. Patterson from her room in ICU, through scrubbing in and most of the way through surgery. She's practically a sounding board for Dr. Martinez to vent his frustration on.

"And then going to confess in front of her husband? You don't even know if you were the cause. You have no idea."

"I'm sorry." Quinn, apologises yet again, all she receives is a glare from Dr. Martinez before he puts all his focus back on Mrs. Patterson's heart.

"There. Over here." He motions for Quinn to look, "There, look at the wall rupture. That's a hell of a lot more than a fingernail. Her ventricular wall was weak."

Quinn's able to breathe a sigh of relief, well right up until the chief makes her way in.

"I just had a conversation with Mr. Patterson. I want copies of his wife's chart in my office by 5 tomorrow morning, the two of you are going to meet with me and legal and you better damn well be able to explain what happened here!" She glares at the pair of them, before making her way out of the OR again as fast as she breezed in.

Dr. Martinez turns to Quinn, "You're going to go back and talk to the husband. Review the history. Apologise, profusely. Your ass is on the line here Dr. Fabray."

* * *

After scrubbing out of the surgery she went to the hallway Beiste's interns like to gather at, she finds Santana studying for a surgery and Sam...Well making balloons out of latex gloves. She explains what just happened with Mrs. Patterson to the pair, sitting next to Santana and grabbing one of her books, looking through it for any indication of what could have caused the weak ventricular wall in her heart.

"You got called in from the Chief?" Sam enquires.

"Tomorrow morning." Quinn responds in a mumble, not bothering to lift her head from the textbook, "I could get kicked out of the program. I could right?" she asks finally looking up to look at the pair.

"You're not going to get kicked out." Sam tells her supportively.

She feels better for all of about three seconds, right up until Santana opens her mouth, "Patterson's just going to sue." She tells Quinn with a shrug, like it's no big deal.

"Patterson is not going to sue and you're not getting kicked out." Sam reassures her quickly, sending a not very threatening glare towards Santana.

Which Santana just ignores, and continues talking to Quinn "What the hell were you thinking? Telling Martinez, so stupid."

Quinn's about to respond, but the ringing of her cell phones grabs her attention, and when she reads the caller ID and sees that it's her mother's care home, she decides it's safer to take the call in private. "I gotta take this." She murmurs, turning to glare at first Santana, "Thanks, thank you. Very comforting." She tells them sarcastically as she leaves.

She passes Brittany on her way, the taller blonde opening her mouth to talk to Quinn, but she's in too much of a rush, so Brittany instead just goes to join Sam and Santana, figuring she can catch Quinn later.

"So the beer's coming at 7 and some of the floor nurses are bringing wine." Brittany informs the pair.

"You invited nurses? Ugh!" Santana asks in disgust.

They both ignore the Latina as Sam turns to Brittany, "Did you clear this with Quinn?"

"A few more people aren't going to make a difference, okay? A party's a party." Brittany murmurs.

"And the bigger the party, the less time for bad sex with the baseball player." Santana retorts.

"Would you stop saying that? Taylor and I have great sex."

"Mmhmm"

"All the time."

"Mmhmm"

"In fact, we'll probably have sex after the party, or during the party." That statement causes Santana to bark out a laugh.

"As long as you clear it with Quinn." Sam mumbles as he walks away.

"Taylor just needs to realise that doctors can have fun. We're not all workaholics with God complexes." Brittany informs Santana.

The brunette sends her a bemused look, "But we _**are**_ workaholics with God complexes."

* * *

Rachel's minding her own business, getting on with her job when she feels a sudden yank on her arm and suddenly Kurt is right next to her, having seemingly come out of nowhere.

"We need to talk." He informs Rachel by way of greeting, not even giving her a chance to respond, just grabbing hold of her bicep and dragging her into a supply closest.

"Kurt, What the hell?"

"Shh, listen you'll want to know this." He tells her grimly.

"Fine, what?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, as you know, I was chosen to tend to the Chiefs patients today" He starts, a smug grin on his face. "Anyway she's all in a rage because we had this surgery earlier where this woman had a towel left in her chest, a surgical towel Rachel, it had been there for years" He tells her with disgust.

"Kurt, you seriously pulled me into a supply closest to tell me that? You couldn't have waited for lunch first?" she asks hotly.

"No, no, no. That's not what I needed to tell you. After that whole debacle I was walking with her down the corridor, listening to her rant kind of crazy about stupid surgeons, when a patient's husband approached her."

Rachel still isn't sure where this is going, but there's suddenly a knot in her stomach, and she has a sense that she isn't going to like where this conversation goes.

"A Mr. Patterson." He tells her, seeing the recognition of the name across Rachel's face and knowing he was right to find her. "It seems he's pretty pissed at some intern who confessed; in front of him that she may have damaged his wife's heart, at the same time as his wife was being rushed into emergency surgery. He's involving his lawyers." He finishes gravely. "Would I be right in assuming this intern was one Quinn Fabray?"

Rachel mashes her lips together, taking on board all of the information, and unsure whether to admit to Kurt or not that Mrs. Patterson was Quinn's patient. She knows he has a bit of a reputation as a gossip, but he's never betrayed her trust before, so she figures to go for it. "Possibly. Mrs. Patterson was Quinn's patient. She mentioned it to me earlier, I told her not to tell Kurt. _Shit!_" She closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall.

"She probably should have heeded your advice." He replies in a haughty tone that doesn't go over well with Rachel.

She opens her eyes and glares at him, "She was scared Kurt, She must have panicked, anyone of us would have done the same."

"Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry" He tells her, holding his hands up to show his apology. "I just wanted to let you know in case you wanted to comfort her."

She breaths out her frustration, "I'm sorry for snapping. Thank you for finding me and telling Kurt."

"You're welcome." He tells her before slipping out of the room again.

* * *

Quinn finds herself one of the quiet and rarely used stairwells to take the call in, looking out of the window as she talks to the woman from the nursing home, "And the notary can be there at 6:30 too? And the home's physician will be there to attest to her mental competency? Okay, is there anything else I need to bring besides my license? My checkbook. Okay, 6:30. I'll be there." She clicks the button to hang out, resting her arms on the railing and sighing heavily.

Rachel just happened to be walking by the door for the stairwell and noticed Quinn right away; she pushes through the door, just as the blondes hanging up her cell. Rachel comes to a stop next to a stressed looking Quinn, "I heard."

That startles Quinn, thinking she meant the phone conversation she quickly thinks up a response, "It's a notary thing. A thing to get...notarized." she finishes lamely.

Rachel sends her a confused look, "I'm talking about the heart thing. Do you want to talk about it?"

Quinn doesn't respond straight away instead she stares ahead for a few long moments, "We're adults. When did that happen?" She asks, running her hands over her face, because she suddenly feels exhausted all over again. "How do we make it stop?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know." Rachel offers with an apologetic smile and she too leans her arms against the railings to look out the window.

"Thank you. For offering. But no, I don't really want to talk about it."

Rachel nods her head, understanding not to push, "That's okay, but if you change your mind, I'm here."

Quinn sends her a thankful smile, before taking hold of the brunette's hand that's closets to hers, offering a light squeeze in gratitude. It's silent for a beat, but the Quinn looks at Rachel, licking her lips before speaking because she's nervous, asking for something like this isn't in her nature, "...Could we just...sit for a little while?"

"Sure." Rachel replies easily, keeping hold of Quinn's hand even as she turns and sits on the floor, her back leaning against where they were just standing, with her legs stretched out in front of her. She tugs at the pale hand still in hers, urging the blonde down next to her, Quinn complying almost immediately , tucking her knees close against her chest, and after only the briefest hesitation resting her head on Rachel's shoulder, who in turn rests hers atop of Quinn's.

They sit in silence for a good five minutes, Quinn soaking in the comfort Rachel has to offer, while in turn the brunette just sits patiently next to her, not hounding her for gossip or information, she just sits and waits, and allows Quinn to toy with her fingers not rushing her, despite the amount of work she's bound to have waiting on her. Another few minutes pass, before Quinn lifts her head from the comfortable spot on Rachel's shoulder, "Why surgery?"

"hmm?"

"Why did you want to be a surgeon?"

"I didn't." She huffs out a light laugh at Quinn's bemused expression, "I've wanted to be on Broadway since I was...gosh 4 months old."

"Broadway?" Quinn repeats, her brows furrowed in confusion, "Like the show tunes and dancing?"

"Okay...well firstly there is a lot more to Broadway than just show tunes and dancing. And if we're going to be continuing..._this"_ She gestures between them, "Then I feel that perhaps we should begin educating you on what exactly Broadway is."

"Right" Quinn replies, quirking an eyebrow at the brunette "...So how did you go from wanting to be on Broadway to being a surgical intern?"

The smile drops from Rachel's face almost immediately, "My um...My daddy, he...He got sick." She replies, and it's barely audible, but due to their close proximity Quinn hears it clearly, she looks to Rachel who has this far off look on her face, deciding its best to stay quiet and let Rachel continue in her own time.

"It started off pretty mild, headaches, and nausea mainly. But..." She trails off, and her brown eyes are distant and almost glazed, as she gathers her thoughts. She snaps out of her daze, turning to Quinn with a small smile, "In junior year of high school, I got the part of Maria in West Side Story. My parents they had...they were sat front and centre watching me, just like they did for every performance. I was half way though singing 'Somewhere' when I heard all this commotion from the front row..." She pauses again and Quinn notes how tears are pooling in Rachel's dark eyes, so she starts to brush her thumb against the back of Rachel's knuckles in the hope that it might somehow offer her some form of comfort.

Rachel continues, her voice is weak, in a way Quinn's never heard it before, "...and there was my daddy... He ah...he'd started to seizure." She pauses again to clear her throat, her voice coming out stronger, in a tone Quinn recognises as the tone Rachel uses with her patients, "Six hours later we're being told he has an inoperable brain tumour...all the doctors said there was nothing they could do. Until we found Dr. Scheuster. 12 hours. It took him 12 hours to give my daddy his life back. That's when I decided to become a surgeon, so I could give someone there life back."

Woah, Quinn thinks. That's a lot of information to take on board. She isn't exactly good at offering comfort to people she knows, to patients yes, but people in her life...not so much, so she just speaks from the heart, and hopes it's enough to show her empathy, "I'm really sorry you had to go through that." She tells the brunette sincerely.

Rachel smiles her thanks and lifts their joined hands and giving Quinn's a soft kiss, "I'm really sorry you have to go through the heart thing."

* * *

She finally tracks Mr. Patterson down, standing outside of the hospital talking on his cell, when he hangs up Quinn figures now's as good a time as any to talk to him, as she approaches him, he looks up and meets her eyes, "That was my lawyer. He was advising me not to talk to you."

"Mr. Patterson, I know that you're frustrated and angry, but I need..._we_ need some more information about your wife. The walls of her heart are abnormally thin-"

"Don't blame this on my wife. I heard from your very mouth what happened. I know."

"But we can't treat her if-"

"She was in the best shape of her life. You ask a cardiologist. She had lost 100 pounds. Don't you dare try to hang this on her."

"Mr. Patterson, please." Quinn tries to reason with him.

"We're through talking." He tells her firmly, waving a dismissive hand in her direction as he walks off.

After that unsuccessful conversation, Quinn goes to update Dr. Martinez on the situation, he dismisses her quickly, she sighs heavily, and checks her watch, realising she will have to leave the hospital quickly if she's going to make it to the care home on time for the notary.

Although with the crappy day she's been having, she should have known better than to think it'd be that easy, she gets stuck in traffic on her way out of the city, and bursts through the doors of the care home almost twenty minutes late.

Quinn looks around frantically for a member of staff, spotting the lady she had spoken with that morning, "Sorry I'm late, it was the traffic-"

"It doesn't matter, dear."

"Oh, don't tell me the notary didn't show."

"Oh, everybody's here. It's just...your mother isn't." She tells Quinn, gesturing towards Judy sitting on one of the armchairs, surrounded by the notary and physician.

Quinn walks towards her, calling her to get her attention, "Mom?"

"What do you people want from me?" Judy asks her as she approaches.

"We need you to sign the lawyers' papers." Quinn explains, sitting on a chair next to her mother.

Her mother just folds her arms against her chest, stating impatiently "I have a cranial reconstruction in a half hour. I need to go."

"Okay, Mom, we're all here. We have a notary. I need you to focus, and I need you to sign these papers. Mom, look at me."

When she does make eye contact with Quinn, there's still no recognition in her eyes, "It's an emergency surgery. I don't have time for this."

"She can't sign anything now. She's sundowning. We should have done this earlier in the day." The care home worker tells her.

Quinn whirls around to face her, her patience finally coming undone, "I couldn't come earlier in the day. I have a job, and a life. And I'm here now."

"Well, you're going to have to come back tomorrow when she's lucid." The woman explains, in a much too arrogant way for Quinn's liking.

"You know, why did she put this off for so long? And why did you let her?" She asks, looking specifically at the physician who's been taking care of her mother. "Doesn't it strike you as slightly irresponsible? I mean, what the hell is wrong with you people?" She asks hotly, before storming out of the place.

* * *

Quinn can barely remember the drive back to her house, her mind's working over time, she's stressed, and angry, and upset and...Stressed again. Angry at the care home for being so irresponsible and waiting so long, to sort out the advocates around her mother's estate. Upset at her mother for not being lucid when Quinn needed her to be, for making Quinn face this alone. Stressed with everything that went on at the hospital earlier, angry at herself for opening her damn mouth in front of a patients next of kin, she's exhausted and her head hurts and she just wants to get the meeting Brittany's boyfriend get together over as quickly as possible so she can just collapse into bed and sleep away the awful day.

Except when she reaches her house, she notices a lot more cars around than usual, plus a lot more people milling around then the loud music finally hits her ears and she realises the small 'meet Brittany's boyfriend cocktail party' is actually a full blown party. "Brittany, I'm going to kill you." She muses to herself as she comes to a stop outside of her overflowing house.

When she finally makes it through the crowd of people to get into her house, she finds even more people milling around inside, and it's like a throwback to the frat parties she attended in college. Right up until some drunken guy hands her a pretty expensive lamp, and she realises that this is actually _her_ house, and all of _her_ stuff that's going to get trashed. She does another quick scan of the living room trying to find someone she knows, she finally spots Sam standing in the kitchen, she storms up to him, catching him completely unawares as she shouts above the music, "Where is Brittany?!"

"She didn't clear it with you?" Sam asks, looking incredibly frightened at the crazy look he's receiving from Quinn.

"This was supposed to be a meet-the-boyfriend get together little thing." She seethes.

"I-I-Brittany has a lot of friends." He tries to cover, until he just gets too scared of the look on Quinn's face and starts moving through the crowd trying to get away from her.

No such luck for him though as Quinn follows close behind, still fuming at him, "Brittany doesn't know this many people."

"I told her to clear it with you." Sam says quickly, perfectly willing to throw Brittany under the bus, if it keeps him from getting shouted at.

"I can't handle this." Quinn sighs.

"You want me to kick everyone out? I'm gonna kick everyone out."

Quinn actually considers letting him, but as her eyes do a quick sweep over the crowed living room, she spots Santana standing on the couch with a bottle of beer in her hands; the Latina spots her at the same time, throwing her hands up in the air, and bouncing on the spot, "Q-Baby! You made it! Woo!"

"Screw it." Quinn sighs shaking her head, because if someone as uptight as Santana can let go like this, why shouldn't she? "Hold this." She says as she shoves the lap into Sam's arms, "And give me this." Grabbing the bottle of tequila from his hand, moving towards Santana to join her in the drinking and dancing, because yeah sleep is one way to forget a stressful day, but alcohol and dancing is also a very good equivalent in Quinn's eyes.

She jumps on the couch next to the brunette, who immediately has an arm wrapped around her shoulder, "Hi, baby!" Santana slurs drunkenly in Quinn's ear, as they both take a large swing from their respective bottles of alcohol, moving together to the beat of the music, before Santana's attention is diverted back to were Sam is still standing, "Sam! Sammy, come here!"

He looks on slightly terrified from his place, having never seen this side of either girl before, shaking his head to answer no, but they're persistent, and yell at him until he has no choice but to join them. Quinn hands him the bottle of tequila while she shrugs off her coat and throws it blindly behind her, grabbing the bottle back immediately after, feeling Santana press the front of her body against Quinn's back and encouraging her to dance along, so she does. And with the raw sting of tequila in her throat, while being sandwiched between her two friends she finally lets herself go a little and just stops worrying about things for a little while.

Barely 2 hours later and she is drunk off her ass. She's finished up the bottle of tequila (with a little help from Santana and Sam), after having danced constantly with Santana, before they both got to uncoordinated to dance safely any more.

So they're now perched on the safe zone of the floor, playing a game of cards, Quinn isn't actually sure what the game is, she's mostly just getting by on blind luck. "Why did we want to be surgeons anyway?"

"Surgery is very serious business." Sam responds, sounding a lot less drunk that Quinn and Santana, who in reply just burps loudly, and with the two playing cards stuck on her face, she looks anything but serious. Sam turns his cards over laying them on the floor; "Full house!" he yells merrily a huge smile on his face.

Santana laughs a little, kind of evilly, grabbing the two cards from her face and throwing them down, "Royal flush. Get naked, baby boy." she taunts Sam as he sighs heavily beginning to take his shirt off.

Quinn still pretty much continuing the conversation she started earlier by herself, "Surgery is stupid. It's stupid. It's stupid."

"Give me that. You're drunk." Santana tells her, snatching the fresh bottle of tequila from her hands.

"I'm not driving. I'm not on call. I'm in my own house. My life is crap. And it's my party and I'll get drunk if I want to." Quinn whines, trying to get the bottle back.

Sam's rolling around on the floor trying to get his shirt off, apparently much more drunk that he sounded and Quinn's pretty much straddling Santana's lap when a random guy stops next to them, shuffling awkwardly, "Is, um, Brittany Pierce around?"

The distracting is enough for Quinn to finally grab hold of the tequila bottle, and cheer in victory as she rolls off Santana's lap, and takes a long chug from the bottle. Santana's the first to reply, "Oh, you must be Taylor." She laughs as she stumbles to her feet, standing in front of the guy, before turning to Quinn "He's very tall and baseball-like." Turning back to face Taylor, "No, Britt's not here right now." She answers before leaving the room.

"Brittany said she was going to be at home. She didn't say there was going to be a party."

"Which pisses both of us off." Quinn pipes up, turning around from her spot on the floor to face Taylor, holding the bottle of tequila out to him "Would you like some tequila? It helps."

He smiles politely at her, "When do you think she's gonna get here?"

"Don't know. But we're low on ice, Taylor." Quinn tells him.

"I'm serious."

"So am I." She tells him drunkenly, "We're interns, Taylor. Hospital owns us. It's what we do." Sam, who's finally worked out how to get his top off, nods his head eagerly next to Quinn. Taylor just shakes his head at the pair before turning to leave, the two blondes shouting loud goodbyes to him as he does.

* * *

A little later, Quinn decides she needs some fresh air, because there are way too many people in her house and it's all stuffy, she manages to find the front door and stumbles through it onto her front porch, sending a glare towards the ground, as if it's the grounds fault she's too drunk to function right now. When she regains her balance, kind of, she closes her eyes, and lets the beat of the music wash over her, swaying along to it, not caring that she's dancing alone. When Quinn opens her eyes, she notices a very amused looking Rachel watching her from the bottom of the steps.

"You know, in some states, you could get arrested for that." Rachel tells her, as Quinn starts to walk towards her "So you blew me off for a bottle of tequila. Tequila's no good for you. It doesn't call. It doesn't write. It isn't nearly as much fun to wake up to." She teases.

Quinn sends her a drunken smile, before tripping over nothing again, Rachel's thankfully quick to reach out and catch her, wrapping her arms around the blonde's slim waist, as she tumbles into her with a little "oof". The blonde nuzzles into Rachel's neck as she feels the rumble of the brunette's chest as she laughs. "Tequila's my friend" she mumbles against her neck, smiling as she feels Rachel laugh again.

"You are _so_ not going to be saying that in the morning." Rachel jokes with her, tenderly brushing some hair away from Quinn's face.

The blonde pulls away from Rachel's grasp, reaching down to set the bottle of tequila on the ground, considering she's found something much better to keep her company, when she stands up again, she grabs a hold off the collar of Rachel's jacket, and pulls her in for a passionate kiss, "Tequila isn't nearly as much fun to fall asleep with either." She mumbles against the brunette's lips, making Rachel smile as she plants a few short kisses against the brunette's plump lips. Smiling herself when Rachel, pulls her closer, pressing their lips together and taking the lead, deepening the kiss almost immediately. "Take me for a ride, Rachel?" she murmurs, after the kiss ends, swaying slightly on the spot even with Rachel's arms around her.

"You are so drunk, Fabray." She laughs slightly, slipping her arm around Quinn's waist and guiding the blonde towards her car, disposing of her gently in the passenger's seat as Quinn just grins drunkenly up at her, when she closes the door and walks round to the driver's side.

Rachel has every intention of doing as Quinn asked and taking her for a drive, but when she slides the key into the ignition she feels Quinn tugging on her arm, she turns to look at the blonde, unable to stop from smiling as she takes in Quinn's cute expression, with her brows furrowed and her lips in a pout. "Why'd you come to the party so late?" Quinn asks.

"I scrubbed in on an emergency subdural hematoma, with Brittany and Dr. Shue." Rachel explains, "You never got back to me about dinner, so I figured I had some time to kill." She shrugs, "I just wanted to see you since you had such a hard day toda-" She's stopped abruptly by Quinn's finger against her lips.

"Shh, we aren't talking about that. Tonight is about fun." Her finger slips down Rachel's lips, and she brings her thumb up to brush just underneath her bottom lip, taking a light hold of the brunette's chin and pulling her in until their lips meet, sliding against one an others softly.

She may be drunk, but even in her drunken stupor Quinn realises that kissing Rachel is fast becoming her favourite feeling in the world. She swiftly drops her grip on the brunette's chin and threads her fingers through chestnut hair; another thing that's fast becoming her favourite. The alcohol coursing through her system seems to heighten every feeling she's experiencing, and she's practically moaning into Rachel's mouth instantly.

Rachel can still taste the tequila on Quinn's breath. She lets Quinn control the pace of the kiss, keeping her hands modestly on Quinn's waist, brushing small circles through the material of her shirt with her thumbs; aware of how drunk Quinn is and not wanting to take advantage. She was really quite content with the slow languid kisses they were trading.

Quinn however clearly wasn't, pressing her lips harder against Rachel's lips, tightening her fingers in brunette locks as she pulls her closer, before pulling her lips from Rachel's abruptly, with a loud huff of frustration.

"Wha-" Rachel begins, but is quickly cut off when an unsteady Quinn, clambers over the centre console, rather clumsily and plants herself onto the brunette's lap, her knees settling on either side of Rachel's thighs.

There's a hint of playfulness in Quinn's eyes as she looks down at Rachel, "Much better." She murmurs, leaning down and connecting their lips once again, in a demanding, passionate and purposeful kiss. Dipping her tongue into Rachel's mouth eagerly, sliding it against the brunette's over and over as her hands cup her face.

Kissing Quinn Fabray drives Rachel crazy. Having Quinn straddle her is just fucking glorious, especially since she's wearing a skirt, that's now ridden up considerably, and Rachel sends up a silent prayer for the fact she choose to wear a dress today, because it allows her to feel the soft skin of Quinn's thighs against her own. She does at least try to remain respectful and keeps her hands on the safe zone of the blonde's hips, but when Quinn starts to slowly rock her hips against her, she struggles with staying courteous.

Things grow more and more heated, and Quinn starts tugging at Rachel's jacket, the brunette picks up on the hint, but their in the driver's seat and there isn't exactly much room to manoeuvre, she pulls back from the blonde's lips, "Quinn, Quinn, I can't um...we can't" she shakes her head, clearing it from the Quinn-induced haze she fell into. "You're drunk, we shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" Quinn asks with a pout.

"Because you're drunk, and I'm not. I don't want to take advantage."

Quinn's eyes soften slightly at that admission, "Would it help if I tell you that I've been desperate to feel you inside me again every since that first night?"

Rachel feels her morals slowly slipping away from her, and with a well timed roll of the hips on Quinn's part they completely dissolve. "You're sure Quinn? 100%?" she checks.

"Positive" Quinn confirms nodding her head, "Now can you please take off this damn jacket!"

The brunette really can't help but giggle at Quinn's impatience; she grabs the lever at the side of her seat, sliding it back as far as it goes, then adjusting the back so she isn't sitting as straight. It's still cramped, but there's just enough extra room for her to shift slightly; Quinn still in her lap, and shrug off her jacket, chucking it onto the passenger's seat.

Quinn licks her lips as she takes in how much of Rachel's collarbone is now exposed, thanks to the cut of her dress, she brings her hands up to toy with the straps of Rachel's dress, leaning down and starting to kiss a wet trail down the brunette's neck, sucking slightly at the base of her throat, moaning a little before mumbling softly, "You taste like ice cream." Before delving in to taste every available inch of skin Rachel's neck has to offer.

On her part, all Rachel can do is laugh breathlessly at the remark, she places her hands on the toned muscle of Quinn's thighs, squeezing slightly as she runs her hands up and down, making small circles with her thumbs. She's pretty much trapped underneath Quinn, who seems to be insistent on kissing every bit of skin on her neck and collarbone. It's kind of torturous, but Rachel can't help and think it's the kind of torture she'd gladly sit through again and again.

Quinn's tugging again at Rachel, this time at her dress, but she finally works out that it isn't coming off without her having to move first, and she really doesn't want to do that. Then she has a better idea, she slips her hands from Rachel's neck, grabbing hold of the hemline of her own top, disconnecting her lips from the brunette's neck and pulling the top off over her head swiftly.

Any doubts Rachel had about going further than a make out session are threw out the window the second she see's Quinn's top coming off. Her eyes trail up the pale and fantastically toned abs, lingering slightly on the pert breasts, still encased in a light pink bra, continuing up until she's met with darkened hazel eyes. They stare at each other passionately for a few lingering moments, both surging forward at the same time, their lips melding together once again.

Rachel's hands go straight to the blonde's breasts, cupping them and kneading them without hesitation, pinching the already hardened nipples through the blonde's bra, causing Quinn to gasp into her mouth and roll her hips harder. The brunette kisses a trail down the blonde's throat, before burying her face into Quinn's cleavage, licking along the outline of her bra, biting down slightly when she feels Quinn tighten her grip on her hair.

"Rachel I...I need...I need." She trails off helplessly as Rachel nudges her bra down slightly and takes a pebbled nipple into her mouth.

"What do you need, baby?" Rachel asks after she's detached her lips from Quinn's breasts.

"Touch me, just...just touch me." She pleads.

She doesn't specifically say _where _she wants Rachel to touch her, but Rachel's a smart girl and can work out from the breathy and needy tone of Quinn's voice, and from how her hips haven't stopped moving, that Quinn's probably eager for some under the skirt action.

She brings one hand up to cup the blonde's cheek, pulling her down for a searing kiss. Her other hand slipping higher and higher up a creamy thigh, giving her ass a squeeze and revelling at how Quinn whimpers against her lips.

She slips the tips of her fingers underneath the material of the blonde's panties, following the material around until she can feel the heat emanating from Quinn's centre, slowly pushing her panties to one side, groaning as she feels the evidence of the blonde's arousal. She moves her lips off Quinn's and resumes the trail of kisses she'd been leaving earlier down the blonde's throat.

Quinn lets her head fall back, giving Rachel more access to her neck, one arm around Rachel's shoulder's the other fisted in her hair holding her close. Moaning and withering on Rachel's lap as the brunette circles around her clit, brushing it lightly with her thumb as her fingers circle around her dripping entrance. "Inside Rach, just...inside."

"You're sure Quinn?" She checks one last time, she doesn't get a verbal response, but there's a definite nod of the head, and a harsh push of her hips against Rachel's hand. The brunette leans up slightly taking the blonde's earlobe between her teeth, biting down and sucking faintly as she thrusts two fingers inside of her.

"Oh fuck!" Quinn cries, her forehead drops to the nook of Rachel's shoulder as she pants and moans against the brunette's collarbone, her hips working frantically against the brunette's fingers currently pumping inside of her.

They've done this before. In fact that first night together they did this multiple times, and even though she was drunk, Rachel remembers it, she thought she remembered it in detail. But as she works her fingers in and out of the blonde, she's almost overwhelmed with just how good it feels. She was surrounded by Quinn, the long blonde hair brushing against her shoulders, the hot air from each of Quinn's pants against her skin causing goose bumps to break out. Feeling the blonde so hot, so wet, and so perfect around her fingers. She wraps an arm around Quinn's bare waist, holding her close as the blonde begins setting her own rhythm with her hips, gyrating and thrusting down onto Rachel's fingers.

Nothing's said between them and the only sounds echoing in the cramped space of the car are the various moans and gasps of pleasure from the pair. The muscle in Rachel's forearm is burning by now, even as she holds her arm steady, letting Quinn ride her fingers at her own pace, she brings her thumb into the mix again, swiping it against the blonde's clit eager to bring her to the release she seems to be desperately searching for.

Quinn can feel it building, and when Rachel starts teasing her clit, she knows she's going to reach that desired peak soon. She seeks out Rachel's lips again and it's messy, mostly just teeth and tongue but anything that involves having Rachel like this just feels too good for the blonde to stop. Her movements become more and more sloppy, and when the brunette curls her fingers just right, with a quick brush of her clit, Quinn's body goes rigid and she comes with Rachel's name on her lips and the brunette's lips on her neck.

Rachel doesn't stop kissing her until her breathings evened out. Even when Quinn rests her head against the brunette's shoulder, Rachel continues to lightly kiss the side of her head and face as she brushes her fingers through long blonde hair. Smiling when she feels Quinn breath out a contend sigh against her neck. She pulls her fingers from the blonde, discreetly wiping them on her underwear and wrapping her arm around Quinn, holding her close. "Are you alright?" She whispers softly.

"Very, very alright." Quinn replies in a whisper, ghosting her fingertips along Rachel's collarbone. She pulls her head from Rachel shoulder to look into brown eyes, "You make me feel much better than a bottle of tequila did."

Rachel smiles up at her, huffing out a laugh, reaching for her jacket in the passenger seat, "You know, it sounds like the party's winding down." Rachel murmurs as she covers Quinn's bare shoulders with her own jacket "We should probably get you sneaked inside."

"We've done good sneaking tonight" Quinn responds still in a whisper, with a giddy smile, playfully bopping Rachel's nose with her finger.

"Yeah, I think we're good sneakers." Rachel grins at her, "But why are we whispering?"

"Cause we're sneaky sneakers." Quinn replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

They share a laugh as Rachel brushes some of Quinn's hair behind her ear, resulting in Quinn leaning in to kiss the brunette again. A tap on Rachel's window is the only thing that separates them. They pull back still smiling at one another, the smiles quickly dropping from their faces when they see Dr. Beiste standing on the other side of the window.

"You mind moving this tail wagon? You're blocking me in." Beiste tells them impatiently, moving towards her own car.

"Apparently not good enough sneakers." Rachel mumbles as Quinn moves off her lap.

"I should probably get in and make sure my house is still in one piece, I'll see you tomorrow." Quinn tells Rachel despondently sounding much more sober now than before.

"Do you want me to-" She starts to ask, but seeing how pensive the blonde looks she figures its one of those times that Quinn needs some space. Rachel curses her own stupidity at allowing them to be caught by Quinn's boss. The one thing Quinn wanted was to keep their relationship, whatever it was, private from the people at the hospital, she didn't want to be centre of the gossip mill, and Rachel can't help but feel she's let the blonde down somehow. "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

The one positive Rachel takes, as Quinn gets out of the car and starts heading towards her house, is that she's still wearing the brunette's jacket, so she has to at least talk to Rachel again, right?

* * *

The next morning finds Quinn lying on her back in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by the left over remnants of last night's party; she had the intention of beginning to clear up, but quickly decided it was best she just stayed in one place. She hears Sam approach and holds her arm in the air, knowing he will have been considerate and brought her some coffee.

He hands it to her and plops down on the floor by her head, "When's your meeting with the chief?"

"In an hour." Quinn rasps, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

Just the Brittany arrives home, stopping in the doorway her eyes wide in shock, "Holy mother of destruction."

"You missed Doctor-palooza." Quinn responds dryly.

"Apparently, you didn't." Brittany chimes, as she kicks her shoes off and heads towards them, taking a seat on the floor next to Quinn, "Ugh, I'm so sorry, Quinn. I had no idea it was gonna get so-" she trails off looking around the state of the house not knowing quite how to describe it.

"It's okay. Really, I don't care. What would I be doing anyway?"

"Preparing for your career-altering meeting?" Sam chimes up, his eyes still closed. When he's met with silence and his brain catches up with his mouth he cocks an eye open, looking from Quinn to Brittany and mumbles, "Sorry."

"That heart wall shouldn't have torn." Quinn tells them, shaking her head still unable to piece together how it happened.

"Anything in the patient's history?" Brittany asks as she picks up a beer.

"Husband says she was in the best shape of her life. She lost 100 pounds last year." Quinn replies.

"100 pounds in a year, how's her muscle mass?" Brittany asks as she takes a sip from the beer, leaving Quinn to consider her point.

Sam looks at Brittany in disgust. "Do you even know whose that was?"

"I was hoping it was yours." Brittany tells him.

"Nope." Sam tells her closing his eyes again to stop everything spinning.

* * *

Quinn really, _really_ regrets the amount of tequila she consumed last night while she's sat in Chief Sylvester's office with Dr. Martinez and a team of lawyers. She's nervous having to explain herself in front of all these people, especially the chief but it's the only way she can even attempt to save herself from getting fired. "So, I have done a lot of research on this and Dr. Martinez has been kind enough to help me. And I understand my responsibility, and what I've done wrong here. However, I do think the patient's history is significant in this case. She still weighs 200 pounds, which is why no one even noticed it, but with that kind of a weight drop, it doesn't matter how much you weigh, technically, you're anorexic."

Dr. Martinez interrupts at this point, backing up her case, "So, along with all that fat, she was losing muscle, heart muscle."

"That certainly could be a reason for a small poke to become a large tear." Chief Sylvester tells the lawyers, thankfully, seeming to have taken Quinn's side in all this.

"That still doesn't change the fact that the small poke wasn't reported by Dr. Fabray at the time of the occurrence." One of the legal team chime in.

"And if I could change that-" Quinn begins to explain, being quickly cut off by another lawyer.

"And you can't, but you've left yourself and the hospital to a tremendous amount of liability."

"No, not if the patient's weight loss caused the problem." Dr. Martinez defends Quinn. "I've spoken to the husband. And I believe as long as his wife remains stable-"

"I can't take your beliefs to the bank, Dr. Martinez." The lawyer once again interrupts, "Dr. Fabray made a huge error."

"And she reported it." Martinez intervenes quickly.

"Too late! And in front of the patient's husband."

"But she reported it. She spoke up." He tells the layers heatedly, he takes a deep breath, "Five years ago, as a CT fellow, I had a nagging feeling that I didn't check the body cavity of a lung patient closely enough before I closed. The patient seemed fine post-op and I was in a hurry. And yesterday, you" He says looking to Chief Sylvester, "and Dr. Bestie pulled a towel out from under that patient's lung. Why didn't I report it at the appropriate time? Maybe because I was afraid that I would be called into a meeting where some hospital lawyer's fear of liability could end my career. Even great doctors make mistakes. And when we do, we've got to have a chance to be able to speak up without fear of retribution. Or everyone suffers. Dr. Fabray spoke up."

_**Responsibility… it really does suck.**_

When Quinn's finally allowed to leave the meeting she barely has the door closed behind her when she hears Rachel call her name, she turns away from where she was heading over to Sam, Brittany and Santana and faces the brunette.

"Quinn, You okay?"

They haven't spoken since Quinn left the car last night, but Rachel just looks so worried for her right now that it kind of makes Quinn's stomach flutter.

"Yeah. One month probation." Quinn tells her, smiling a little, with a slightly relieved look on her face.

"Good." Rachel breaths a heavy sigh of relief, beaming at Quinn, "That's good, right?"

Quinn returns the smile, "Right."

The brunette gives Quinn's arm a subtle squeeze and leaves her to head over towards her friends, giving them all a small wave as she leaves.

When she reaches the other three, who are looking incredibly concerned for her, even Santana, she shakes her head in disbelief, "Martinez saved my ass in there." She tells them

They all open their mouth to question her further, but when they hear the loud roar of Beiste, "Don't you all have something better to do? C'mon people, move!" they quickly scatter in various directions.

Straight after the meeting Quinn leaves the hospital for a few hours, having luckily been given permission to leave the hospital for a few hours, (under the guise of a dentist appointment) in order to head to the nursing home earlier, and having the forms signed giving Quinn full responsibility to her mother's care, and estate. She doesn't want this responsibility, but really, what other choice does she have?

_**Unfortunately, once you get past the age of braces and training bras, responsibility doesn't go away. It can't be avoided. **_

_**Either someone makes us face it, or we suffer the consequences.**_

_**And still, adulthood has its perks. I mean, the shoes, the sex, the no parents anywhere telling you what to do… that's pretty damn good.**_


	6. If Tomorrow Never Comes

_**Wow you guys really hate the idea of Puck/Britt (Not that I'm surprised though) lol**_

_**Don't worry, I won't go there!**_

_**Thank you all for the continued support, it really does mean a lot!**_

* * *

_**A couple hundred years ago, Benjamin Franklin shared with the world the secret of his success. "Never leave that 'till tomorrow," he said, "which you can do today."**_

That quotes kind of running through Quinn's mind right now, because she really thinks she shouldn't bother doing anything today. She even contemplates calling in sick to work and just spending the day in bed, wallowing in her own self-pity and embarrassment.

Her alarm starts going off, but she just reaches out and slaps the snooze button, getting lost inside of her head again.

Her resident saw her naked. Her _resident _saw her naked. Technically not naked. But whatever. Her resident found her on top of a fellow intern. A fellow female intern. Almost naked. In a car, outside a party. It's just mortifying.

Sure she managed through work yesterday, but because of everything with the lawyers she'd just been put on scut and didn't have to see Beiste too much. But today, she'll have rounds and that means seeing Beiste all morning.

_**This is the man who discovered electricity. You'd think more of us would listen to what he had to say.**_

Outside of her bedroom Sam's making his way down the hall, two mugs of coffee in hand. He reaches Quinn's door and stops, because her doors closed and well...that makes it difficult to get in with both his hands full.

He attempts to push the handle with his elbow, but it's a rounded doorknob, and he can't twist it. So instead her tries to hold both coffees in one hand, which results in him pouring burning coffee all over his crotch, "oww"

_**I don't know why we put things off, but if I had to guess, I'd say it has a lot to do with fear. Fear of failure, fear of pain, fear of rejection…**_

Brittany makes her way down the hall behind him, "Wouldn't it be easier to just ask her out?" she asks, giving him a little patronizing pat on the back before making her way into the bathroom.

Sam gives up, shuffling back down the hallway again; he really needs to put something cold over his crotch, because piping hot coffee, right there? Ouch.

"She's gonna be late." Sam muses to Brittany a little later, as he ties up his sneakers.

Brittany makes her way past him, heading into her room "Maybe not."

"We should wait for her."

"Definitely not. I'm not her mother, and you are not her boyfriend." She pops her head back into the hall, wriggling her eyebrows at him, "Not yet, anyway."

"Stop, ok? I told you I'm not interested." He tells her, grabbing his backpack and waiting outside of her room.

"Life is short, Sam. Do you really want to die before you ever ask her out?"

"I do not want to ask her out."

"Do you really want to die a liar?" She teases as she walks out of her room, heading towards the front door.

"I'm not..." He starts, and then well, he doesn't want to be a liar so he settles for, "I'm not dying."

_**Sometimes the fear is just of making a decision. Because, what if you're wrong? What if you're making a mistake you can't undo?**_

Quinn does eventually manage to drag herself out of bed. But she's running very, very late, so late that she skips out on half her morning routine and basically just gets dressed and into the car. She made a decision. She'll just avoid Rachel at all costs. Talk to Dr. Beiste and explain that it was a drunken thing and won't in anyway affect her work at the hospital. And then beg the woman not to tell anyone else. The last thing she needs is for her private life to be spread all over the hospital. She's already having a hard enough time proving herself there because of who her mother is.

She was half way to the hospital doors when she realizes she forgot her handbag, jogging back to the car quickly she reaches in to grab her bag, but when she turns around again she comes face to face with Rachel who's climbing out of her car, in the space right next to Quinn.

"Crap." She signs right in Rachel's face.

"Crap?" Rachel asks sounding mildly offended.

"Hi." Quinn smiles tightly at her, "I'm late." Quinn says quickly, rushing off towards the hospital.

"You're avoiding me." Rachel calls after her as she slams her door shut and follows after.

"Yes" She admits easily, "But also late."

"Okay, are we going to talk about this?" Rachel asks lowering her voice.

"No."

Not to be deterred Rachel continues after Quinn, "About us. And Beiste. And what she saw?"

"I don't need to talk about it. I experienced it, naked." Quinn whispers harshly.

Rachel smirks are her and rolls her eyes, "You weren't naked."

"Close enough! I'm her intern and she finds me _semi _naked, in a car, with you after almost getting sued by a patient's husband. Beiste isn't even speaking to me anymore."

"You are being ridiculous. What interns aren't allowed to have sex?"

"No. I don't...I just mean..." she sighs heavily, trying to gather her thoughts to get out a sentence, "this is getting too complicated."

They come to a stop in front of an elevator, Rachel turning to look at Quinn "I guess if I was a better person, I'd walk away."

"Yes, you would."

"Do you want me to be a better person?"

"Yes." Quinn answers immediately, but then she actually looks at Rachel and catches her nodding her head sadly and she just... "No... Crap." This is just way to complicated now, "I'm late." She says one last time, turning to take the stairs.

"Take your time. Think about it." Rachel calls after her, with a small smile on her face because; well that wasn't a definite yes.

* * *

Quinn's the last person in the intern locker room, she's busy tying her shoes when Santana comes bursting through the door, still dressed in her clothes. "You're late." Quinn states surprised.

"So are you." Santana retorts, moving to her locker quickly taking off her top and changing into her scrubs.

"I know, and I can't afford to piss off Beiste anymore. Do you think she told anyone?"

"About you and your little McDreamy Munchkin?"

Quinn stops her actions and tilts her head to the side, just wondering how the hell Santana comes up with half this stuff, "Yeah."

"No, I really doubt she cares." Santana tells her.

"If they find out, what can they...? Can they kick me out, or...?"

"For sleeping with another intern?" Santana asks her disbelievingly, not quite believing how over the top Quinn's reaction to all of this is, but Santana, being Santana decides to tease the blonde some, "No... " She starts slowly, "Not officially. You'll just get edged out, blacklisted, banned from surgeries, passed over for chief resident." She sighs dramatically, "It'll be humiliating, but you'll live."

Quinn barely hears her, lost inside her own head, mumbling almost to herself, "I have to end it. I definitely have to end it. I have to end it, right?"

Santana rolls her eyes at the blonde, slamming her locker shut and rushing out of the room, "Quinn, shut up."

"What?" Quinn asks, still not having been listening to her, as she follows after while they rush to rounds. "Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?"

"Oh, please. You got a hot doctor, who likes to make you open up, and say 'ahh.' It's the American dream, stop whining about it."

"No. No good can come from sleeping with your colleagues." The blonde finishes as the reach the rest of their group.

"Santana, you're late." Beiste chides immediately.

"So is Quinn." Santana tells her, perplexed about being singled out, but Beiste just ignores her and starts power walking off, their cue to follow behind.

_**Whatever it is we're afraid of, one thing holds true… that, by the time the pain of not doing a thing, gets worse than the fear of doing it, it can feel like we're carrying around a giant tumor.**_

"When we walk in this door, you will maintain decorum. You will not laugh, vomit, or drop you jaw. Are we understood?" Beiste informs her interns, as they reach the closed door to a private hospital room.

"Why would we laugh?" Brittany asks puzzled.

Puck looks at her with a smirk, rubbing his hands together, "Oh, just you wait."

"Good morning, Miss Connors." Beiste greets kindly as she enters the room, closely followed by each of her interns, who manage to remember to heed Beiste's warming and not look as shocked as they feel when they see Miss Connors. Her hospital gown not able to cover the large growth protruding from her side.

Sam ducks in behind Santana, he figures it's probably the safest place to be and whispers to her, "What is it?"

"Tumor." Santana replies sound way too excited about it to be deemed normal.

_**And you thought I was speaking metaphorically.**_

Puck, who seems to be out to impress on this case, trying to charm his way onto the surgery, is the one who presents the case, and by the patients request is accepted onto the patients care by Dr. Martinez.

The other, slightly disgruntled interns leave the room, discussing what they just saw, "How much do you think it weighs?" Quinn asks in awe.

Sam makes a rough estimate, "60 pounds."

"More." Brittany argues "She's carrying a whole extra person."

"This one's going in the books. I've got to get in." Santana muses.

"I almost did." Brittany sighs, "Have you ever seen Puck like that? He actually seemed sincere."

Quinn retorts dryly, "'Seemed' being the operative word."

"He was on call last night when she came in. I am never leaving this place again." Santana states seriously.

Beiste spears behind them, and begins walking off again, "Let's move, people. Ms. Connor's surgery, should we choose to proceed, will take most, if not all, of the surgeons off the floor, which means you people will have to work extra hard not to kill anyone, 'cause we won't be there to fix your mistakes."

As they follow after Beiste, Sam pulls Brittany back to walk with him, "I know you think I like Quinn but I don't like Quinn." he informs her.

"What?" Brittany asks only half paying attention as she writes notes in her notepad.

"No. I like Quinn. Obviously, I like Quinn. I just...I don't have a thing for her." He amends.

"Ok."

"It's just this morning...I know you were probably just teasing, But I don't want you to say anything like that to her. Because you know, we live together, and that'd be awkward."

"Sam, stop talking." Brittany tells him sounds bored.

"Ok, then." He mumbles, following the others into their next patient's room, finding a man clearly suffering from Parkinson's. His daughter helping him across the room.

"Morning." Dr. Beiste greets the patient, nodding at Dr. Scheuster, her face turning to a scowl when she spots Rachel standing just behind him.

"Mr. Levangie, this is Dr. Beiste and her fine staff of surgical interns." Dr. Scheuster says cheerfully, clapping his hands together.

"Welcome to hell, kids." Mr. Levangie responds, as his daughter struggles to help him into his hospital bed.

Once he's situated back on his bed Beiste asks, "Who's presenting?"

"Edward Levangie is a 63-year-old man admitted for pain management for Dyskinesia. He's been stable since last night, and responding to the bolus injections." Sam reports easily.

"Brittany, possible treatments?" Beiste asks.

"For Parkinson's disease? Um, deep brain stimulation has shown..."

"No, it's um, it's not for Parkinson's, for spinal pain." Rachel inputs gently, earning a glare from Santana, which she personally feels was uncalled for since she was just trying to help Brittany out.

When the taller blonde struggles to come up with a response, and most of the other interns in the room fumble to check in their notebooks, Rachel catches Quinn's eye, and with a tilt of her head gestures for the blonde to answer, "Intraspinal catheter. That way, he can have constant pain medication." She supplies easily.

Dr. Scheuster beams at Quinn, after her answer, "Excellent." He tells her, before turning to Mr. Levangie "This is Dr. Fabray. She's gonna prep you for the procedure and assist, along with Dr. Berry."

Rachel sends her a congratulatory smile from her place behind Dr. Scheuster, but when she spots Dr. Beiste glaring at her again, the smile quickly drops, and she's thankfully saved by her beeper going off, "Excuse me." She says politely before escaping from the room and Dr. Beiste's scowl.

She doesn't anticipant Dr. Beiste to follow her out of the room, so when she hears the tall woman call her name she almost drops her beeper.

"Erm...Dr. Beiste, What can I um...what can I do for you?" Rachel asks nervously, turning to face the older woman.

"You can start by staying away from my intern, Berry."

"Excuse me!?" She asks incredulously, "With all due respect Dr. Beiste, while you maybe my senior inside the walls of this hospital, you really have no say about what goes on, or who I spend time with in my private life."

"I have a say when anything that happens in your private life can affect _my _interns and their ability to do _their_ jobs. You think you're charming in that talented, neurotic, overly moussed hair sort of way, good for you. But I know about you, I know _all_ about you, Berry." Beiste finishes glaring hard at Rachel.

Realization flickers across Rachel's face, but she schools her features, "I don't know what you're talking about Dr. Beiste."

"I think you do. And that girl in there has worked hard to get here; she doesn't need to be the next piece of gossip for this hospital, and she especially does not need you pandering to her, to get her onto surgeries."

"That's not what..." She sighs heavily, realizing that no matter what she says, Beiste's already made up her mind, and there's no winning for Rachel. "They way I see it is the only way either of us is going to be the subject of gossip around the hospital is if you decide to tell anyone." She challenges the older doctor.

"I'm not going to be advertising your extracurricular activities with my intern. But I will continue to be hard on Quinn while you continue to try and give her an advantage over the other interns." And with that Beiste returns to her interns, leaving behind a very frustrated and very annoyed Rachel.

* * *

Quinn's in two minds about Mr. Levangie, on one hand it's kind of awkward having to work with Rachel, and she wishes she wasn't thrust into the situation. Even though, a little bit of her is kind of flattered that Rachel believed in her enough; to know the answer to the question, when most others just write her off.

On the other hand, she's kind of excited, because she actually really enjoys neurosurgery, and Dr. Schue is pretty cool as far as the residents go. Plus the patient, Mr. Levangie, is really very funny.

She's just leaving Mr. Levangie's room, after having checked up on him when she bumps into Mr. Levangie's daughter; Mary, who was on her way back to her father's room.

She walks after Quinn, calling to her "Excuse me. I'm sorry, doctor..." she trails off, unsure of Quinn's name.

"Fabray." Quinn supplies for the woman with a smile.

"My dad seems to like you. He's always liked skinny blondes." Mary tells her, huffing out a laugh "Is that rude? I'm sorry. I'm so tired."

"Is there something...?" Quinn asks her gently, confused about where the conversation is headed.

"I was wondering if you would talk to him."

"About?"

"Brain surgery. The doctor mentioned it, and I've read about it online. If it worked, it could help with most of his symptoms, not just his pain." She informs Quinn nervously.

"Is he a candidate? I don't..."

"He is, but he's afraid of it. Surgery on his back, he can understand, but his brain...And there are risks. But his quality of life..."

"There isn't any." Quinn finishes for her knowingly.

"And, it keeps getting worse. I'm getting married next month. I already lost my mom. And I want him to walk..." She trails off, tears pooling in her eyes, trying to collect herself, "I want him with me. Maybe that's selfish, but...you don't know what it's like having a parent...Watching him..."

_Fade away into someone unrecognizable_, Quinn thinks to herself, "I do. I do know what it's like. I'll see what I can do." She knows exactly what it's like to see one of your parents deteriorate before your very eyes.

Mary smiles sadly, "Thanks"

"You're welcome." Quinn tells her honestly. Before turning and leaving searching for Dr. Scheuster.

It takes a while, and between times she has other patients to check on, but after some asking around she does finally manage to track him down, discussing something along with Rachel. She almost walks away and resolves to find Dr. Scheuster later, but they spot her before she can leave, so she sets her shoulders mustering all the confidence she can and approaches the pair.

"Dr. Scheuster. Mr. Levangie, your Parkinson's patient, is he a good candidate for DBS?" she asks him, ignoring the small brunette at his side.

"Umm..." Dr. Scheuster begins but trails off, looking at Rachel for an answer.

"Yeah, but he isn't interested." She informs him.

"Okay" Quinn concedes, before licking her lips and continuing, "I think it's worth talking to him again, pushing him a little."

Dr. Scheuster seems to contemplate this a moment, nodding his head at the thought, turning again to Rachel, "And what do you think Dr. Berry? Did you get the sense from Mr. Levangie while doing his history that it's something we should push?" he asks imploringly.

Rachel opens her mouth ready to agree with Quinn, but she catches the looming figure of Dr. Beiste just over Quinn's shoulder, listening to their conversation, she shuts her mouth again, clearing her throat before speaking, "I think that we're talking about brain surgery here. Brain surgery that is performed while the patient is wide awake, with a risk of paralysis, a risk of death. And, no the patient doesn't want it. I don't think it should be our job to push him into anything." She finishes shrugging dismissively.

Quinn stands shocked for a moment, surprised Rachel didn't back her up, but determined not to give up "But his daughter-" Quinn starts but is cut off by the shorter brunette.

"It isn't his daughter's decision, nor is it the decision of an intern to push it; it's Mr. Levangie's choice." Rachel argues, looking at Dr. Scheuster for support.

Dr. Scheuster looks pensive for a few moments, weighting up the decision in his mind before speaking, "I'm sorry Quinn, I think Rachel's right. The decision is up to Mr. Levangie." He finishes, smiling apologetically, and placing a supportive hand on her shoulder squeezing lightly.

"Okay." She concedes, ignoring the brunette at his side, because yeah she's pretty pissed at her right now. "Thank you for your time Dr. Scheuster", she tells him, turning to walk away only to find Dr. Beiste standing, having clearly watched the exchange. It would be an understatement to say Quinn was relieved that she could go and have a lunch break.

She's pissed. She's beyond pissed. Who the hell does Rachel Berry think she is!? First she's all adamant Quinn should answer a question during pre-rounds, to get Quinn onto the case with her. And now she's all unconcerned about Quinn's point, when Quinn tries to push for a life-altering surgery for her patient. She wouldn't have minded so much if she'd discuss it with Quinn in private, but no she had to undermine her in front of Dr. Schue.

She manages to track down Santana, and together they grab their trays for lunch. Their heading towards a table in the outside courtyard of the cafeteria, Quinn ranting on the way, "It's just that she blatantly favors me in front everyone one minute, and then blatantly dismisses me the next."

"How do you know she was favoring you? Look, you've got a brain. You got into this program. Just because Berry wants to munch your cookie doesn't mean you didn't deserve what you worked for. You knew the answer to the damn question Quinn; it was Dr. Schue that picked you for the surgery not the midget." Santana seethes at her.

"But she's making me look bad. I have to end it."

Santana looks at her, clearing not believing it, "Right."

"It's over." She states with finality.

"Uh, huh." The brunette utters, taking a drink from her water bottle.

"Is it true you get to scrub in on that tumor?" Puck asks Santana, as he approaches their table, Brittany in tow.

"Don't sit here." She glares at him, as he sits down anyways, "And Yup, it's true."

"I can't believe it. I got kicked off because some stupid tech left the mike on in the CT. She overheard me talking about her stupid ass tumor." He tells them forlornly.

"Sucks for you Puck. But you shouldn't have been talking about her, that's mean." Brittany tells him with a sad look, a look which quickly changes to a beaming smile when she turns to Santana, "But hey, you get to scrub in? How psyched are you?" the bubbly blonde asks her excitedly.

"On a scale of one to ecstatic? Ecstatic." She expresses delightedly.

"It's unbelievable. You know what I think? I think Martinez wants to get into your scrubs." Puck retorts, looking at a very smug Santana.

Santana slams her sandwich down, narrowing her eyes dangerously at him "Why are you sitting here?" She asks dismissively. Quinn's the only one who notices the faint blush that appears on her cheeks, quirking her eyebrow; the blonde decides she should ask about that later, in private.

"He kicked me off that surgery for the same crap you pull every day." Puck fumes.

Santana holds up her plastic fork, turning to Quinn, "You know what. If I stuck this fork into his thigh, would I get in trouble?"

"Not if you make it look like an accident." Quinn tells her seriously, the pair smirking in triumph as Puck pales slightly.

"Hey!" Sam greets happily, pulling a chair up to the table, placing himself between Brittany and Quinn.

Bubbly as ever Brittany greets him with a cheerful, "Hi!"

"Thank God, man. I'm drowning in estrogen here." Puck greets, clearly glad to have Santana's attention off him.

Sam looks to Quinn as he sets his tray down, "You look...is everything ok?"

"Berry's a jackass." Quinn mutters.

"Really?" Brittany asks confused, "I think she's kind of great."

"She reamed Q out in front of Shue and Beiste." Santana explains for Quinn, furrowing her brows at the taller blonde, "And anyway when do you even talk to her?"

"I scrubbed in with her and Dr. Shue the night of the party." Brittany explains easily to the brunette, turning quickly to Quinn, "Why'd she do that?"

Quinn looks up from where she was playing with her food to look at Brittany, "Cause she's a jackass."

She feels Sam slide closer to her, "Well, bad days are...bad." He bumbles, "Maybe tonight, uh, if, you know, if you drink alcohol, I mean, we could..." He suddenly realizes there's a table full of people and drags his eyes from Quinn, to look at them, "all of us, I mean, go out and drink alcohol...because of the bad day." He finishes meekly.

Quinn sends small a very forced and very weak smile, because honestly she checked out of that after his first sentence, and thankfully her pager goes off which saves her from having to answer. She checks it quickly, seeing it's for Mr. Levangie. "I got to go." She smiles apologetically to him as she leaves.

The tables quiet for a few moments, Brittany and Santana mashing their lips together to stop themselves laughing in Sam's face, but Puck isn't so tactful, "Dude." He sighs shaking his head, not impressed in the slightest by Sam's lame attempt at asking Quinn out.

"Shut up." Sam tells him flatly.

Which is the point Santana can't hold it in anymore and bursts out laughing in his face, quickly followed by Puck. It's left up to Brittany to comfort the poor guy giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

* * *

Quinn arrives at Mr. Levangie's room to find Dr. Scheuster and Rachel already in the room. Great just what she needs. She sighs as she enters the room, ignoring Rachel's gaze and turning to Dr. Scheuster, "Did you page?"

Mr. Scheuster, looks to her, then over to Rachel, before turning back to his patient. Surprising Quinn when he opens his mouth, "Mr. Levangie, have you given any more thought about the other surgical options we discussed this morning?"

"What?" Mr. Levangie asks surprised, "Why would I? I already told you no. I'm letting you cut into my back, but that's not enough for you. All you guys ever want to do is cut."

"Dad, just listen to what he has to say." His daughter tries to intervene gently.

"I already listened." He snaps.

"Sir, there's a very small window of opportunity here. You know, once the Parkinson's progresses to a point of dementia, you know, you're no longer a candidate for DBS." Rachel tires to explain gently.

"And when I'm no longer a candidate, is that when you people will leave me the hell alone! What? Do I have to start drooling, and forget my name to get a little peace and quiet?" He fumes.

Rachel opens her mouth ready to push further but Dr. Scheuster looks to her and shakes his head.

"All right." Dr. Scheuster concedes, "I'll check back with you later. Try to get some rest." He smiles at the two interns as he leaves; shrugging his shoulders in a way that indicated he'd tried his best.

"Dad, you're being unreasonable. The doctors are only trying to help you." His daughter argues through tears.

"It's my damn life, and it's my damn brain. You want me to let them cut up my brain while I'm lying here awake, for what? I'll be at your wedding. I will sit in the back. Your uncle will walk you down the aisle. I know it's not perfect, but it's life. Life is messy sometimes."

"I know that." His daughter tells him seriously.

Mr. Levangie sighs out in frustration, fighting tears himself as he watches his daughter storm out of the room, turning to Quinn, "If she knows, then what the hell are we still talking for, huh? Why in hell can't she drop it?"

Quinn nods at him understandably, "It is your life" She concedes, "But it's her life too. And you have a chance to get better here. And all she's asking you to do is try." She reasons gently, smiling politely at Rachel as she too leaves the room.

* * *

Quinn's heads is a mess with the whole Rachel situation. She realizes that maybe she blew the whole Beiste catching them at the party out of proportion. She does know that technically two interns hooking up isn't against any hospital rules. Plus it's not like they're getting hot and heavy around the hospital (well not yet at least Quinn thinks with a smirk.)

And it's not like it's affecting how they carry out their jobs. Except today it kind of has, she doesn't understand why Rachel was so dismissive of her earlier, although she does have a suspicion that perhaps Beiste's said something to the brunette, but really what could she have said? They aren't breaking any rules, why would Beiste care so much?

Plus, in the end Rachel seemed to have sided with her and got Dr. Scheuster to talk to Mr. Levangie about the surgery after all. She's so lost in her thoughts sitting at the nurses' station that she doesn't even notice Rachel approach her, the brunette's quite voice pulls her from her thoughts.

"Mr. Levangie has agreed to DBS. If we do it today. If he leaves, he says he won't come back. I've already informed Dr. Scheuster. He says you're welcome to scrub in if you want."

They stare at each other a while, neither sure what to say, before Rachel just nods at her, flashing a sad smile and leaves Quinn alone again.

She finishes up filling in some more of her paperwork, until she's due to scrub in, when she spots Dr. Beiste down the corridor, Quinn decides that maybe talking to her, explaining herself would help smooth matters over between the pair. She approaches the tall, imposing woman cautiously, clearing her throat to get the woman's attention.

"Look, Dr. Beiste. I didn't know. I didn't know she worked here when I met her. Trust me if I had nothing would have happened."

"I don't care."

"Really? Because you seem to kind of not be talking to me, and I... I don't understand why, It's not like she's my boss or anything. We aren't breaking any rules."

There's a look the passes through Beiste's eyes, almost something close to pity, but it's come and gone before Quinn even gets a chance to ask about it, and Beiste's speaking again, "You see this, what's happening right here? _This _is my problem with you sleeping with a colleague. Not whether or not you knew her before, but how it affects _my_ day. And me standing here, talking to you about your sex life, affects _my_ day. And the longer this little fling goes on the more people start talking about you, and look at you, and then they start talking to me about you and it just affects my day even more. So, no, Dr. Fabray, I don't care what you knew, or when you knew it. Are we understood?"

"Yes." Quinn breaths out, frustrated by the situation.

"Good." Dr. Beiste tells her curtly, before brushing past and leaving.

* * *

Quinn and Rachel don't see each other again until Mr. Levangie's surgery; Rachel took care of all the pre-op procedures while Quinn tended to a few of her other patients. When Quinn actually found some spare time she spent it sitting with Santana reading up on the DBS, while Santana did some research on the tumor surgery she was scrubbing in on.

When she walks into the scrub room, Rachel's already there washing her hands, they share polite smiles but neither speaks. They both realize they have things to discuss, but right before a pretty intense brain surgery isn't really the time for that. Quinn looks through the window, as she scrubs in, watching Dr. Schuester talk to Mr. Levangie, trying to ease his worries for the surgery.

Quinn generally thinks this anytime she's in surgery, but after reading up on the DBS she thinks this one might actually be her favorite. For one Mr. Levangie being wide awake while it happens is a completely different take on surgery from what she's use to. Plus if the surgery goes correctly, she'll be able to see the results first hand, like it'll happen right in front of her, it's really incredible to think about.

"How you doing, Mr. Levangie?" Rachel asks the man as she enters the OR, taking her place next to Dr. Scheuster.

Mr. Levangie, looks at her pensively, clearly nervous about the surgery "All right." He responds, "Where's Blondie?"

"I'm right here." Quinn tells him as she makes her way into the room, "Can't you see me?" She questions, teasing lightly.

"I'm shaky. I'm not blind. Anything goes wrong here, I'm blaming you" He tells her, teasing back.

"Ok, in that case, I'll stay where you can see me." She smiles at him, standing by his side as the surgery continues; she watches what's happening on the monitor's around the room, showing a computerized simulation of what exactly Dr. Scheuster is doing.

"Now we just have to drill a hole and try to find the spot that controls the motor function." Dr. Scheuster explains to Quinn, and Rachel who's still stood right next to him.

Mr. Levangie turns his eyes to look at Quinn stood next to him, "You can't see my brain from there. Aren't you supposed to be learning something?"

"I'm good, right here." She tells him gently, reaching her hands out and taking hold of his, trying to ease his tensions.

Rachel, watching from where she personally has a great view of the guys brain kind of melts at the sight. Surgeons have such a reputation as being heartless and steeled, yet Quinn always seems to ease her patient's worries so easily. She shakes her head, focusing back on the job at hand looking at the monitors, "EEG waves look good Dr. Scheuster"

Quinn looks up to see Dr. Schue taking hold of the neurosurgical drill, "Ok, Mr. Levangie. Just take a couple deep breaths. Ok, this is going to sound really scary, but try and relax. You shouldn't feel a thing." Dr. Scheuster states calmly.

"Just focus on the pretty girl Mr. Levangie." Rachel pipes in, looking to Quinn, and even though all Quinn can see is Rachel's eyes right now, she knows she has the damn smirk on her lips underneath the surgical mask. She rolls her eyes at the brunette and quickly puts all her attention back onto Mr. Levangie, even if she does have a dark flush over her cheeks.

The surgery continues a little longer, mostly filled with Dr. Scheuster asking or answering questions for his eager interns, Mr. Levangie piping up every now and then to tease Quinn some more about something. While Dr. Scheuster is busy trying to determine the best area of the brain to implant the electrode, Mr. Levangie is asked by a nurse, standing at the end of his bed to mimic her actions. It's a simple enough action, just placing the front of one hand against the other, then switching to press the back of one hand against the first, but because of his constant and server tremor he can't get it.

"Just keep trying, Mr. Levangie. You can do it." Rachel encourages.

Quinn can sense he's getting frustrated, and tries to reassure him, "You're doing great, Mr. Levangie. Just a little longer."

"Oh, damn it!" Mr. Levangie cries, getting more and more frustrated, after he once again fails to do it.

"Take a breath and try again. One more time, Mr. Levangie." Quinn eases gently.

"The probe is almost in. You'll know it when we find the right spot." Rachel informs him, as she watches Dr. Scheuster work. Me. Levangie's tremors begin to slow, and eventually stops altogether so he can complete the action.

"Well, how about that?" Rachel asks in awe.

Dr. Scheuster looks up from where his eyes were focused on the man's brain to watch as he copies the nurse's movements with ease, "There it is." He beams proudly.

Mr. Levangie looks shocked as he continues to mimic the actions, for the first time in years not being deterred by a constant tremor. "I'll be a son of a bitch." He exclaims, through tears of joy.

It's a proud moment for Quinn. She's kinda fond of Mr. Levangie, and to see him gain back some of the control over his body that he had lost...it just makes Quinn feel really happy for him. Even more so for his daughter. She knows too well what it must have been like for Mary watching her father deteriorate in front of her all these years, unable to stop it, and felling so helpless. It hits much too close to home for Quinn. But hey, at least someone got their happy ending.

Dr. Scheuster leaves quickly after finishing up, having to head over the next OR to help out with the giant tumor surgery, leaving Rachel and Quinn to push Mr. Levangie back to his room to recover. There's an awkward silence most of the way, until they get to the elevator, Rachel reaches out and pushes the button, taking a quick look around to check they're alone.

"Look...I'm sorry about earlier okay? Beiste was on the warpath. I was trying to protect you." Rachel tells her quietly.

"You trying to protect me is why she's on the warpath. You can't do me favors." Quinn tells her.

"Okay, okay."

"And you can't treat me like crap and undermine me when I haven't earned that either."

"Okay."

"I can take care of myself. I got myself into this mess, and I..."

Rachel smirks, "And you'll get yourself out?"

"I don't... know that yet." She murmurs.

The elevator arrives just as Rachel's pager goes off; the brunette helps to push Mr. Levangie's gurney into the elevator, before checking it.

"Go, if you need to go. I can take it from here" Quinn tells her understandingly.

Rachel nods, smiling at Mr. Levangie before looking back at Quinn, "You did great work here today." She tells the blonde before starting to walk off.

"Dr. Berry." Quinn calls after her.

Rachel turns around confused, because she's usually only Dr. Berry when she's pissed Quinn off somehow, and she thought they'd just cleared the air. "Yeah?"

"Sorry I called you a jackass." Quinn tells her shrugging slightly.

"You didn't." Rachel responds her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Quinn bites her lip, looking apologetic "Actually I did. Twice."

Rachel laughs light-heartedly, rolling her eyes as she turns again to leave, throwing a quick "See you later, Dr. Fabray" over her shoulder.

Quinn rests her back against the wall of the elevator closing her eyes for a moment, before Mr. Levangie's groggy voice cause her to open them again, "Tell you what, Blondie. If you don't marry her, I will." He tells her, with mirth in his eyes.

Quinn laughs and shakes her head, smiling down at him, "Why don't we focus on getting you ready to walk your daughter down the aisle first, Mr. Levangie. They we can work on me huh?"

* * *

Quinn has a couple of hours to kill before the end of her shift, she's finished up her paper work, and done another check on all her post-op patients before deciding to go check out the giant tumor surgery. She finds Puck sitting front and centre of the gallery, and moves to take a seat next to him. "God, it's unbelievable." Quinn murmurs as she watches Santana and Sam struggle with holding the tumor, while Martinez, Beiste and Scheuster all work on removing it.

"Right." Puck agrees.

"How did she live like that?"

He leans over and whispers in her ear, "Watch what you say. You never know whose listening." Before pulling back and laughing "Look at Sam. He looks like he's about to fall in."

"Are you really as shallow and callous as you seem?" Quinn asks unimpressed.

"Oh, you want to go out for a drink later and hear about my secret pain?"

"Does that line ever work for you?"

"Sometimes." Puck shrugs.

"Oh." Quinn replies surprised, "Must be because you look like that." She reasons.

"Like what?" he asks jokingly, flexing his biceps, "So is that a yes?" he asks leering at Quinn.

Quinn just quirks an eyebrow at him, "No. I can't. I'm seeing someone."

"Look, if you don't want to go out with me, just say so. No need to lie."

"Oh, ok. Well, I don't want to go out with you." Quinn replies with a smile, "But I think I really might be seeing someone." She explains.

Puck doesn't get a chance to respond, because Brittany bursts through the door of the OR and explains to Dr. Martinez that she just had to crack a patient's chest in order to remove a blood clot...with her bare hands. Practically everyone in the OR and gallery turn to look at her in awe as she explains again what exactly happened, before leaving with Dr. Martinez.

There's a part of Quinn that feels incredibly jealous, but that's just the surgeon part, the rest of her just feels elated for her friend, because everyone always writes Brittany off as being all bring and bubbly and not cut out for surgery, but god Brittany's a freaking badass!

She's pulled from her pride when Puck stands up abruptly, shouting "What the hell! That was my patient, she cuts into a heart bedside and couldn't even page me!?" he fumes looking to Quinn as if she has any of the answers. He pulls his pager from his back pocket, noticing the flashing screen indicating for him to change the battery. "Shit." He rages before storming out of the room.

Quinn smiles watching him go, yep Brittany is a badass. And finally Puck's self-centered arrogance has caught him out. She couldn't be happier.

_**The early bird catches the worm. A stitch in time saves nine. He who hesitates is lost. We can't pretend we haven't been told. **_

_**We've all heard the proverbs, heard the philosophers, heard our grandparents warning us about wasted time, heard the damn poets urging us to seize the day. Still, sometimes, we have to see for ourselves.**_

_**We have to make our own mistakes. We have to learn our own lessons.**_

Puck's finally getting around to changing the batteries in his pager, still fuming that he missed an opportunity like Brittany got. He decides all he really needs is some beer and a night away from woman, so tracks down Sam, not his ideal choice but whatever.

"Hey, you wanna grab a beer? Maybe find some hot babes? If you act a little less like you I might even teach you how to pick up a woman."

"Yeah sure." Sam agrees easily, "Have you seen Quinn?" he asks, trying to sounds casual at the enquiry.

Puck smirks at him, "Save yourself the misery, man. She's off the market."

"What?" Sam asks, "No, that's not... We're just friends." He covers.

"Whatever." Puck scoffs, leading the way out of the hospital towards the bar.

"But she's not. I mean, if she was seeing someone, I live with her, I would know it." Sam tries to reason as he follows after.

_**We have to sweep today's possibility under tomorrow's rug, until we can't anymore, until we finally understand for ourselves, what Benjamin Franklin meant: That knowing is better than wondering.**_

There's like a torrential downpour outside, and Quinn finished up her shift over 20 minutes ago, she really should be home right now, sleeping. But instead she finds herself standing next to Rachel's car, waiting for the brunette to finish up so they can talk.

Quinn honestly isn't sure where they stand right now; she thought they had cleared the air somewhat earlier, with Rachel apologizing. But she hasn't seen the brunette since. And really when she thinks it over, she probably owes the brunette an apology too, she was kind of rude to her this morning, hence Quinn standing outside in torrential rain waiting for her.

She's just about to give up when she spots the unmistakable figure of Rachel walking towards where she's stood, the brunettes head ducked down, as she holds an umbrella over her head, not seeing Quinn until the very last moment. Just standing in her place, the umbrella covering her, and staring at Quinn.

"I'm sorry." Quinn finally says, "I wasn't very nice to you this morning, and I'm sorry."

Rachel finally smiles a little at the blonde, moving closer and sharing the cover of the umbrella with her, forcing her into Quinn's personal space, but still not speaking.

_**That waking is better than sleeping.**_

Quinn bites her lip, she isn't use to Rachel being so quiet, so she speaks again, "I, um, know this place where there's an amazing view of sunrise over the ferryboats" she suggests, pulling a bottle of wine from her handbag.

Rachel's smile widens, and she takes another step closer to Quinn, the front of their bodies just touching slightly. "I have a thing for ferryboats." She whispers, her eyes diverting from Quinn's hazel eyes, down her to strawberry colored lips, she doesn't even realize she's moved closer to Quinn again until she bumps her nose against the blondes.

"I remember." Quinn murmurs, distracted by how Rachel's eyes haven't moved from her lips.

They're so close Rachel feels the breath from Quinn's answer ghost over her lips, only the tiniest of gaps remains between them, their bodies flush against one another's now and still their lips don't touch.

Quinn swallows thickly; she knows what Rachel's doing, she's offering one final out to the blonde. If Quinn wants to continue with...whatever it is their doing, she's the one who has to take this step. With that in mind she finally leans forwards, closing the gap.

It's a simple kiss, nothing more than Quinn pressing her lips against Rachel's. She feels the brunette's eyelashes flutter closed against the wet skin of her cheek, and then her lips are pressing back against Quinn's. It's sweet, and slow, and _so_ tender and gentle, unlike any of the kisses they've shared in the past.

By the time they pull back from the kiss, both are blushing, smiling shyly at one another, both of them realizing that something's changed between them, even if they aren't ready to admit quite what that is yet.

Rachel's free hand finds its way into Quinn's and she leads the blonde around to the passenger seat of her car, opening the door for her and holding the umbrella over her head until she's safe inside, pushing it closed and making her way over to the driver's side.

_**And that even the biggest failure, even the worst, most intractable mistake, beats the hell out of never trying.**_

They never got around to drinking the bottle of wine. Mostly because Quinn forgot to bring glasses with her, and neither fancied drinking straight from the bottle. Instead Rachel took them to a coffee shop just around the corner from the hospital, that she knows stays open pretty much around the clock.

Quinn runs into the shop, ordering two hot chocolates, one made with soy milk for the brunette waiting outside, rushing back out to the car as soon as she gets her order to direct Rachel to the spot she told her about.

Rachel's a little dubious about where Quinn's directing her to go, because it really doesn't seem so impressive as she drives, and on the next turn she's basically just in a really dingy looking car park, but then Quinn directs her where to park and….well the blonde wasn't lying, the view is really amazing, and they arrive just in time to catch the sunrise.

When they get parked, they move into the back seat, Rachel sitting upright, her knees braced against the back of the driver's seat, with Quinn's head resting in her lap while the blonde's body lies across the seat. Both using the back passenger's side window to watch the sunrise. Rachel continually brushes her fingers through Quinn's blonde hair, adoring how the blonde is practically melting into her lap just from Rachel's fingers in her hair. Her free hand is draped across Quinn's stomach, with the blonde's fingers laced through her own, as they exchange small talk, discussing people at the hospital and life living in Seattle, nothing heavy or deep. It's nice, just chatting with one another.

Rachel's eyes flick to the watch on her wrist, sighing in disappointment when she reads the time, she gives Quinn's hair a gentle tug to get the blonde's attention, "It's just gone 7, we should get you back so you can sleep before your next shift. Come on I'll drop you off so you can get your car." She says with reluctance.

Quinn shifts slightly, sitting up and turning her body to face Rachel, so their chest are pressed against each others, she licks her lips nervously, "Why don't you just drive me home from here? You could, maybe stay too."

Rachel huffs out a small laugh before replying, "Quinn, if I come home with you right now, I think sleep will be the last thing on my mind." She tells the blonde honestly.

Quinn just smirks in reply, irking an eyebrow at the brunette, "Good" The blonde kisses her quickly, and then says, "Mine too."

And really how could Rachel ever turn down that offer?


	7. The Self-Destruct Button

Sorry for any mistakes - I'm feeling a little like Rachel and Quinn at the end of this chapter! I'll give it a better edit tomorrow after some sleep.

P.S. This chapters for mander5000 - I hope everything ended up okay.

* * *

_**Okay, anyone who says you can sleep when you die, tell them to come talk to me after a few months as an intern. Of course, it's not just the job that keeps us up all night.**_

The incessant beeping of her alarm is what rouses Quinn from sleep. She grumbles, stretching out her arm, feeling around blindly, finally finding the alarm on the floor, underneath a bra, and being able to shut it off.

She feels Rachel's naked body wrap around her from behind, nuzzling her nose against the back of the blonde's shoulder and neck.

"You have to get up now." Quinn mumbles against the pillow, even though while saying it, she's pulling Rachel's arm tighter around her body.

"What?" Rachel asks, her voice thick with sleep, sounds surprised that it's time to get up already, "My god, what time is it?"

Quinn can't help the tingles that run down her spine at the feel of Rachel's lips moving against her skin, she turns in the brunette's arms, pressing against her until she's lying on top of Rachel, burying her face into the crook or her neck. "Its 5:20 and you have to leave before Britt and Sam see you."

"Oh, come on." Rachel complains, switching their positions, so she's now on top of Quinn, "Why don't you just let them see?" she argues, placing some hot open mouth kisses down the blonde's neck.

"No!" Quinn tries to say sternly, but with the way Rachel's sucking on her neck right now it makes it a more difficult task. "Fuck!" she exclaims as Rachel bites down on a particularly sensitive spot, "We can't possibly go again."

"I think we can." Rachel retorts trailing kisses along Quinn's collarbone. She trails a hand up the inside of Quinn's thigh, smirking against the blonde's skin when she automatically opens her legs further. Rachel pulls back far enough to see Quinn's face, "Do you really want me to stop?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

After they enjoyed the sunrise together over Seattle, they both went back to Quinn's house. Both thankfully and coincidentally shared the same day off work, so they managed to enjoy an undisturbed day in bed together. The first few hours we're spent in an orgasmic haze as they had sex over and over, making the most of the empty house. Eventually though the 24 hours of no sleep caught up with them and they fell asleep together mid afternoon. When they awoke again, early in the evening, decided to order some food, before Sam and Brittany got off their shifts at the hospital. And well, since then they really haven't stopped going round after round all throughout the night. Falling asleep together, only for one to waken a few hours later and rouse the other girl from her sleep into another steamy sex session.

Quinn's just intoxicated by Rachel, she knew, when drunk she thoroughly enjoyed sleeping with Rachel; she wasn't prepared for how mind-blowing it was going to be when she was sober. So when Rachel smirks at her, she knows she's already lost, of course she doesn't want Rachel to stop.

Quinn really doesn't like losing though, or admitting defeat. So she gathers whatever reserve she has left, and flips their position. Her lips are immediately on the brunette's, grinding herself down on one of Rachel's thighs. The brunette moans into her mouth as soon as she feels just how ready to go again Quinn is. "Together?" the blonde pants out when she pulls back from the kiss, her hand already trailing down the brunette's stomach.

Rachel's kind of speechless for a minute as she looks up at Quinn, she can't really get over just how breathtaking the blonde is. Even at 5:30am after no sleep and a night of wild sex, she's still the most stunning girl Rachel's ever laid eyes on. "Yeah, together." She nods.

* * *

Downstairs, in the kitchen, Brittany's slumped at the breakfast bar, her chin resting on her folded arms as she watches the coffee percolate, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Did you get any sleep?" Sam asks as he shuffles into the kitchen and drops down next to a very sleepy looking Blonde.

She turns her head to look at Sam, raising her eyebrows at him, "She could oil the bedsprings as a courtesy. Or at least buy a padded headboard." Grabbing the coffee pot and pouring herself a very _very _large cup and another for Sam.

Sam picks it up, and they both take long sips of the hot black liquid at the same time. "So, who's the guy?" He asks, trying to sounds as disinterested as possible.

"You really think it was just one guy doing all that work?" Brittany asks, sounding mildly impressed at the prospect.

"Yeah...do you mind if I don't think about that?"

"Ohhh, jealous?" Brittany sing-songs.

He rolls his eyes at the other blonde, "I'm not jealous."

"Well, I am." She admits freely, "But at least I know she'll be having a _long_ day at work."

They both stop in their tracks when they hear the sound of Quinn's bedroom door creak open and someone treading slowly, and quietly down the stairs. They both turn to look at each other before rushing to the kitchen door, pushing it until it's slightly ajar, and watch, through the small crack to see who's sneaking out.

Both their eyes widening in surprise when they see a small, brunette, with very obvious sex hair slip out the front door.

Brittany turns to pack her bag before her shift, mumbling, "Well, I did tell you one guy couldn't do all that work. One girl...that's more plausible."

"That can't be...she's a girl!" Sam exclaims.

"We're late." Brittany tells him, her eyebrows drawn together as she looks towards Sam, "Why would she keep it a secret though, I mean I told her once I was bilingual, you think she would have told me."

"What's being bilingual got to do with anything?" Sam asks confused.

"I was tired. I meant to say bisexual." She explains easily, "I really thought she would have told me if she were gay. I never expected her to be ashamed."

Sam opens and closes his mouth a few times at a loss for words, "Quinn isn't...she's not...I mean..."

"I can't believe she wouldn't tell me, why is she keeping it a secret?" Brittany asks, clearly hurt that Quinn didn't come to her.

"Maybe she didn't. Maybe it just happened. You know, spontaneously, last night." Sam replies with a hopeful tone, shutting up quickly when Quinn comes bouncing into the room.

"Hi. Good morning." She greets them both cheerfully, making her way over to the coffee pot and beginning to fill up her travel mug.

"Hey" Brittany greets her quickly, "so it sounded like you were having some pretty radical sex last night." Causing Sam to choke on his coffee, "_All_ night long. Who was the lucky guy?"

"No one you know." Quinn lies easily, but avoids looking towards Brittany as she does so, missing the scoff and eye roll she gets in response.

"We're late. Let's go." Brittany says shortly.

_**I mean, if life's so hard already, why do we bring more trouble down on ourselves? What's up with the need to hit the self-destruct button?"**_

Quinn is really confused. Brittany was silent the whole car ride to work, anytime Quinn tired to engage her in conversation she was met with short and snappy replies. Very un-Brittany like. She puts it down to the fact she had probably kept her from sleeping last night because, you know all the sex. Still thought even after 48 hours without much sleep Brittany's usually still perky and bubbly.

Sam's been weird all morning too; he's barely looked her in the eyes, just keeping this sad puppy dog look on his face and he just stutters and mumbles his way through responses. It's kind of unnerving how quiet they're being, considering Quinn usually wants to kill them on the drive to work because they're constantly yakking away about something or other. Eventually Quinn just gives up all together, hitting the radio on and just focuses on the road in front as she drives.

Then tension in the car is suffocating, so needless to say Quinn is relieved when she pulls into the Seattle Grace car park, she's just lumbered out of the car when a leather clad figure rolls into the space next to her on a motorcycle. And when the figure removes their helmet, Quinn's kind of shocked to see its Santana. "Yikes! Wouldn't want to meet you in a dark alley." Quinn teases the brunette.

"Right back at ya," Santana smirks in reply, although Quinn does notice she's looking a lot more pale than usual. She's about to ask if the brunettes alright, when Puck jogs up to them.

"A run!? You run?!" Brittany asks stunned, and still angry with him.

"Every day, babe, every day." He replies, looking very smug about it.

"Not suffering enough?" Quinn asks dryly as she makes her way past him.

He smirks and begins walking along side them, flexing his biceps in Santana's face, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger."

"Don't go acting all indefatigable and smug," Santana retorts as she wearily walks next to them, "Especially considering you just quoted Kelly Clarkson. You're dragging like the rest of us."

Puck ignores the jibe, taking in Santana's clammy and pale skin, "Oh, what is that, professional weakness, Dr. Lopez?"

"It's called the flu, jackass." She defends.

A little late they're all inside the interns locker room, getting ready for their days work. "I'm going to need a major rush to make it through this day. I need a kick-ass surgery." Sam complains as he slides on his scrub top.

Puck looks up from where he was tying his runner, "Oooh, you a bad boy last night, Sam?"

"That would be Quinn." Brittany amends for him.

"You a bad boy, Quinn?" He leers at her.

Santana turns to Quinn, eyebrow already raised, "Do tell."

"There's nothing to tell." Quinn replies with an eye roll.

Causing Santana to smirk, "Says it all, huh?"

"Sorry, I have a sex life." Quinn mumbles.

"Don't apologize. Embrace it. Share it. Count me in." Puck winks at her.

"Yeah, next time, just let me know if I need to go to a hotel so I can get some sleep." Brittany fumes, slamming her locker shut, before turning and storming out of the locker room.

So now Quinn's really confused by Brittany, she turns to Sam for answers, "Am I missing something?"

"You were just a little loud." Sam covers, awkwardly, as he and Puck follow Brittany out of the room.

"Do they know it's the hobbit eating your cookie that's keeping them up all night?" Santana asks as they walk side by side towards the door.

"I hope not. I already have Beiste riding me." Santana makes a face, and Quinn realizes how that sounded, "Yeah, okay, bad turn of phrase." Quinn amends, and then just about dies of embarrassment, when she passes Rachel's locker and finds the brunette hiding her face inside it as her shoulders shake with silent laughter, and a wide eyed and shocked looking Kurt stood right next to her. "Oh my god, you heard all of that!?" she directs her question to Rachel, but it's Kurt who replies.

"I wish I didn't, I really wish I didn't. But what's been heard can never be unheard." He murmurs, walking past Quinn, towards the door.

Santana barks out a laugh, before abruptly stopping and giving Kurt a once over, "Hey, wait!" she calls to him, "You look like you're 13 years old. How are you a surgical intern?" she sneers at him, in her typically welcoming Santana attitude, neither Rachel nor Quinn hear his response as the door closes behind the two.

Quinn covers her face with her hands, just when she thinks she can't possibly be anymore embarrassed, Santana opens her mouth. She feels Rachel's hands circle around her wrists, gently pulling her hands from her face, when she opens her eyes, the brunettes standing in front of her with a wide smile and eyes still sparking from how hard she was laughing. As soon as her brown eyes connecting with Quinn's hazel ones, she burst into another round of laughter.

"Stop laughing that was mortifying!" Quinn tells her, poking her sides playfully.

"Oh come on!" She giggles, grabbing hold of Quinn's hands and lacing their fingers together, "It's hilarious. I've always wondered what it would be like to be part of some locker room discussion. And well, now I know." She sends a wink Quinn's way, her eyes shining with mirth.

"I hate you." Quinn huffs out in the midst of a laugh, accompanied by an eye roll. She tries to pull her hands from Rachel's, but the brunette holds tight, smirking at the blonde, "We're going to be late for rounds." Quinn admonishes.

Rachel just nods her head at Quinn, making a soft "mmhmm" in agreement, but making no move to drop Quinn's hand.

"I'm leaving now." Quinn tells her, pulling back slightly, not letting go of Rachel's hand but moving towards the door.

Rachel lets her go, until both their arms are outstretched, and when Quinn's just about to make a move to let go, the brunette pulls her back quickly, until their bodies are flush against one another's and presses her lips hard against the blondes, kissing her soundly. She pulls back, smirking at the dazed look on Quinn's face, placing her lips next to her ear, "I'll catch you later Dr. Fabray." She husks, leaving the dazed blonde behind.

* * *

They finally get rounds out of the way, where Beiste figured Quinn should answer every question nobody knew the answer to, thankfully she got the most of them right, even if a couple were educated guesses.

They're standing next to one of the nurse's stations, waiting for Beiste to come back and direct them to what they're doing all day. Sam's busy watching Rachel through one of the windows on the floor, watching as she puts some eye drops in her eyes. When Beiste approaches them again, she follows his line of vision, rolling her eyes when she spots the small brunette, focusing back on her interns,

"Evans, Lopez, Puckerman, go to the clinic." Santana and Puck are quick to leave, but Sam's still glaring at Rachel, "Evans! Patients are waiting." She waits until he scurries off, before turning back to the two remaining blondes, "You two come with me." She takes off at a fast walking place, collecting files as she passes rooms, "Brittany you're hanging with me today." She notices Quinn yawning next to her, and after seeing Rachel putting in eye drops she quickly puts two and two together, "Late night, Fabray?"

"Oh, um no, Caffeine just hasn't kicked in yet." She lies, not noticing yet another eye roll from a disgruntled Brittany.

"If you're at all religious, you should start praying it kicks in soon. There's a consult in the pit. Teenage girl with a fever and abdominal pain." Quinn quickly takes out her notebook, as Beiste rhymes off her list of instructions, Quinn has a feeling this is going to be a long list, "After that, Nicholas in 3311 needs his meds. Mr. Moeller's IV fell out, and he's a hard stick. And after that, post-ops in 1337, 3342, 4463 and 2381."

"..381. 3342, 3363 and 23..." She looks up to where Beiste is now stood in front of her glaring. "81?" She asks uncertainly.

"Why are you still standing in front of me!?" Beiste asks her harshly, causing Quinn to quickly rush off as far away from her boss as possible. Dr. Beiste watches Quinn go, turning to a forlorn looking Brittany, "You look more like me than you right now. What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Brittany replies, with her best sad panda face on.

* * *

Quinn heads straight down to the pit for the consult, figuring they're probably swamped with people and if it isn't surgical the girl will be in and out in no time. She drops by the nurses' station, to collect the patients file, Clare Rice is the name on it. When she gets to the cubical where Clare is, she finds the girl perched on the edge of the hospital bed, biting her nails nervously. Her father's standing close by her looking concerned, and her mother behind her looking more bored than anything.

Quinn starts asking some basic questions, about Clare's general health and history. Sadly though the poor girl scarcely gets a chance to speak as her mother answers each of the questions for her.

"I think she caught some bug on her trip to Mexico with her friends. I told her not to go to a third-world country, but does she ever listen?" Mrs. Rice explains to Quinn in a haughty tone.

The girl's father, Mr. Rice adds "She's been weak ever since and she's lost weight. And she passed out this morning in the shower"

Quinn hears a softly mumbled "Barely." Coming from Clare after her father mentions weight loss. "When was the trip?" Quinn asks, speaking directly to Clare.

"A couple of weeks ago." Clare shrugs, "I'm really fine, I just have a fever."

"Okay, well, will you lie back for an exam for me?"

"No, please, I don't need an exam. Just give me some antibiotics and send me home."

Quinn raises an eyebrow at the girl, already wondering why she seems so against having an exam, "Well, maybe it is just a fever, but they called down for a surgeon, so I have to give the okay to let you go. So just let me do the exam." Quinn explains kindly.

"No. This is crazy I'm fine."

Before Quinn can ask again the girl's mother speaks up, already annoyed with the situation, "For god's sake, Clare, I don't want to spend my entire day here."

_Ah_ Quinn thinks to herself, there's the problem; she turns to Mrs. Rice, giving her a fake polite smile, "You know, actually, Mrs. Rice, this might be easier if we had some privacy, could you leave the room?" when she sees the relieved look on Clare's face at the proposal she knows she did the right thing. Even though Mrs. Rice doesn't look happy, but her husband smiles politely, guiding her outside letting Quinn knows its fine.

After the parents leave the cubical, Quinn draws the curtains around, giving them privacy. When she turns back to the girl, she's already laying on the bed for the exam. Quinn starts with a basic abdominal exam over the girl's shirt. She presses down slightly, low on the girl's abdomen, and is surprised when Clare flinches.

"Ow! Don't push so hard." she complains.

Clare's reaction confuses Quinn, because she knows she didn't press hard enough to make the girl flinch so harshly, "Can you lift your shirt so I can examine your stomach?"

She watches Clare's hands, which are clenched tightly into fists. The girl taking a deep breath as she closes her eyes and slowly pulls her top up over her abdomen, revealing four pink scares.

"Where did you get these? Clare...you've had surgery recently. These scares are still pink."

"Please don't tell my parents." The teenage pleads.

"You did this in Mexico, so your parents wouldn't know? What did you have done?"

Clare refuses to tell Quinn anything, she just rolls onto her side, facing away from Quinn and pretty much ignores her existence. If the blonde didn't have such a heavy work schedule she would probably probe a little harder, but at least she knows she has enough information now to run further tests on the girl.

She leaves Clare alone for the time being, quickly filling in the paper work to have her admitted and ordering some further scans, all before running off to finish the remaining tasks Beiste set her this morning.

_Speak of the devil_ – Quinn thinks as she checks her pager to see a message from Beiste.

"You paged?" Quinn asks as she approaches the taller woman at the top of the stairs.

"Where are we?"

"I did the consult, did the IV, the meds, the Post-ops, everything."

"How is your pit patient?"

"She's febrile and has peritoneal signs." Quinn tells her.

Beiste's attention is snapped from Quinn to Santana as the Latina makes her way up the stairs past the pair, looking a little worse for wear. "You alright, Lopez?"

"Fine Dr. Beiste. On my way back to the clinic." She replies, giving Beiste a dorky thumbs up. Quinn makes a mental note to track the brunette down at some stage to check if she's really alright, because she really does look ill.

"I think she had some sort of illegal surgery done in Mexico."

"Who? Santana?" Beiste asks surprised.

"No" Quinn replies, shaking her head "...My pit patient."

"Botched abortion?"

"No. She has four laparoscopic scars on her abdomen and won't say what they're from, the parents are clueless."

"You order up for a CT?"

"Yes."

"So while she's there...the nurses couldn't get a Foley on Mr. Garay. He may need a coude cath if you can't get a normal on in there. Write up post-op notes on all surgical-floor patients that had surgery within the last 24 hours. Be sure to document their EKG's and X-Rays. Hunt them down if you can't find them."

"Right away." Quinn replies, trying to sound chirpy, but seriously, her work load today has been ridiculous.

When she reaches the top of the staircase she finds Santana leaning heavily against a wall, "Hey, are you okay? You really don't look good." She asks as she walks past.

"Yeah, thanks for pointing that out Q, you're making my life so much better." She tells the blonde sarcastically, walking along side Quinn before stopping abruptly to grab on to Quinn when she almost trips from feeling so woozy, "Fucking flu."

"Don't take it out on me" Quinn chides gently, supporting the brunette's weight as they walk, "I didn't give it to you, it's all over the hospital. You should be in bed. Look I can give you a ride home when I get a break."

Santana scoffs at her, "This is not going to make me go home. I refuse to let it beat me."

"Santana, it's the flu, you need bed rest and fluids. Go home." Quinn tells her sternly.

"You go home!" Santana spits back petulantly, letting go of Quinn's arm and storming off.

The blonde can't help but smirk slightly at how childish Santana seems to be when ill, calling after her, "I'm not the one with the flu." giggling when the only response from Santana is her flipping Quinn the middle finger without even looking back.

* * *

Rachel's on the lookout for Sam to relay a message from Dr. Scheuster. One of Dr. Scheuster's old patients, Jamie a two year old girl has been admitted. She was born with a brain abnormality, and as she's gotten older the symptoms have become more prevalent. She currently has continuous seizure activity in her left foot, along with balance problems.

"Hey, Sam." Rachel greets politely, as she enters the room where Jamie is, "Dr. Scheuster got called into an emergency surgery, and he asked if you could take Jamie down for a MRI."

"He said CT earlier." Sam argues.

Rachel looks at him a little shocked that he'd talk to a fellow doctor like that in front of his patient's parents, "Well now he's asking for an MRI."

"Yeah. I can take her down." He replies shortly.

"Thank you." Rachel's just about to leave, when she notices the twitch in Jamie's foot has spread the whole way along her leg and it's twitching much faster than before.

"What the..." Sam begins to ask as he too notices.

"It's a focal, left-sided seizure." She explains quickly to Sam as he stands off at the side watching, "Could I get some diazepam running, now please." Rachel asks one of the nurses in the room.

"Tourniquet, please." She takes it from the nurses hand, smiling at Jamie, "Hey princess, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna put this on your arm, okay?" She asks, smiling at the toddler as she places the tourniquet around her little arm. "Isn't that fun?" she reaches around again, lifting the alcohol wipe and rubbing the inside of Jamie's arm, "feels cold huh?" finally she takes the IV from the nurse, "Look Jamie, this is a butterfly." The brunette coos, "Butterfly lands...right there." Placing it onto her arm, smiling up at Jamie to distract her from the small prick she has to make to insert the IV. She laughs as Jamie stretches her other arm out tapping Rachel's cheek.

A few seconds after the IVs been inserted, Jamie's leg stops twitching, much to her parent's relief.

"It's amazing stuff, isn't it?" the brunette muses to the parents.

"Yeah" Jamie's mother breaths out.

"Hey Jamie, you like spaceships?"

"Yeah! Spaceships!"

"You do?" Rachel asks feigning shock, "Okay how about we take Captain Evans, my first lieutenant, to the spaceship MRI? Will we do that, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Jamie cheers, throwing her arms up so Rachel can lift her.

"The guys in MRI are suckers for kids; if you carry her down they'll let you skip the queue." Rachel informs Sam as she passes Jamie into his arms.

"Oh...um thanks." Sam mumbles, because he really wants to dislike Rachel, but she honestly makes it tough sometimes.

* * *

By the time Quinn's finished up with writing all the post-op notes, she's just in time to go down and check on the results from Clare's CT. She's paged Dr. Beiste on her way down, because in the mood Beiste's been in with her the past few days, she figures it's best to have her there to look at the results instead of telling Quinn off for...well she'll find something, Quinn's sure.

"Is this girl fat?" Beiste asks as she looks at the scans over Quinn's shoulder.

"Not at all. She's a normal college kid."

"So, what do you see?"

Quinn takes another hard look at the abdominal CT, working it out quickly, "Her stomach's stapled. She's had a gastric bypass."

Dr. Beiste actually acknowledges Quinn's response, nodding her head almost proudly at how quick Quinn identified the problem, "And a bad one, at that."

Considering Clare's still under 18, Quinn really doesn't have any choice but to inform her parents of the situation with their daughter. They take Mr. And Mrs. Rice to one side, and explain how Clare had surgery while in Mexico.

"Gastric bypass is a procedure normally done on obese patients to help the lose weight." Quinn explains to the parents, after they questioned what it was exactly Clare had done.

Mr. Rice looks confused by the prospect, "Clare? She doesn't need to lose weight."

His wife scoffs next to him, "Are you kidding? This means the world to her." She turns to Quinn and Beiste, "But it is so typical of this girl to take the easy way out. She's done it with everything since she was a little kid."

"Mrs. Rice, nothing about this is going to be easy. She's going to face a lifelong struggle with malnutrition unless she has surgery to reverse the procedure." Beiste replies in disbelief that the mother seems so callous about her daughter's plight.

"Do the surgery." Mrs. Rice insists, turning to speak to her husband, "I told her to watch what she eats since she was a freshman, don't eat junk, exercise. But when she came home at Christmas, who had to take her out and buy her a brand new pair of size 6 jeans because she couldn't get in the ones I got her last summer?"

"Tina, you know she tries so hard. She does. She gets good grades, she gets A's." Her husband tries to reason with her, to make her understand they have a good kid.

"She has illegal surgery in Mexico." His wife retorts.

Dr. Beiste cuts in, making sure the parents understand the seriousness of their daughters condition. "Unfortunately, there were complications with the bypass. She has what looks like an abscess under her diaphragm, and edema, which is a swelling of the bowel wall. I can't say for certain she'll recover completely."

"Just do whatever you have to do to make her well, okay?" Mr. Rice pleads.

Dr. Beiste and Quinn both turn to leave, although Quinn doesn't get to leave until she has another long list of things to do before she checks in on Clare again. She actually hasn't minded being kept busy; she loves her job, all aspects of it. Of course being in actual surgeries is much preferred. Another plus side from being so busy is that she hasn't had a chance to see Sam or Brittany since there awkwardness this morning.

The thing Quinn does have a problem with, is that Beiste is clearly singling her out, and Quinn still can't work out why. Obviously it all started when Dr. Beiste found her and Rachel in a pretty compromising position, but why Beiste finds it such a problem for two interns to be dating is beyond Quinn. Maybe she should bring it up with her again...

After another hour spent doing scut for Beiste, Quinn makes her way back to her patient, Clare Rice. When she reaches the door of the girl's room she hears Mrs. Rice confronting her daughter.

"What have you been eating? And how much have you been working out? I mean, you know, most of the time, when people hit their target weight, they have to work to stay there." She barely acknowledges Quinn as the blonde enters the room.

"Everyone gains weight in college, Mom. It's...it's stressful. There's...there's not enough time for exercise. I just thought if I wasn't worried about my diet, then...I could focus more on my studies." Clare tries to explain, her voice pleading with her mother to understand.

"So you took yet another shortcut? Life doesn't work that way, Clare." Mrs. Rice tells her sternly, before turning to Quinn, "She has so much potential if she would just apply herself..."

Quinn's heard enough by this stage and intervenes, desperate to stop the mother from talking anymore, "Ok. Ok, I think we should focus on taking care of your daughter. And Clare, your parents agree. The best thing to do is reverse the bypass."

"No! No it's my body, I don't want surgery again." She states firmly, turning to her dad, "Please?"

"There were serious complications. And this is about your health." Quinn tries to explain to the girl.

"I'd rather be thin."

"Well, I'm afraid the choice isn't up to you." The girl's mother tells her sternly. And really Quinn's heart aches for the girl. The only reason this girl wants to be thin is because of the pressure her mother's placing on her. When it comes to having pressure placed on you from mother's Quinn's pretty sure she's an expert in it by now.

* * *

After getting Jamie settled into her room again, Sam's wandering around the hospital, and finds Santana at one of the vending machines buying some water. He starts discussing his morning with a not very interested Santana, who's barely paying attention to him.

"I mean the guys in MRI usually make me wait hours to get a scan, but she was right, they scanned Jamie for me straight away. Almost makes it hard for me to hate her."

So that catches her attention, "Why do you hate her?" Santana questions confused, obviously she's fine with hating random people, but it's very unlike Sam.

"Oh, no reason." He mumbles, not wanting to share with Santana about Rachel and Quinn, but walking after her when she starts walking away.

Santana stops in her tracks, narrowing her eyes at him, "You know about Quinn and the hobbit, don't you?"

"You know?" He asks shocked.

She smirks at him, "Trouty, when will you figure out that I know everything?"

Brittany walks up to them, and Sam turns to her quickly, "She knows!" he hisses, gesturing towards Santana.

"What, about the intern-cest?" Brittany asks.

"It's been going on for, like ever." Santana shrugs, not understanding why it's such a big deal.

"Seriously!?" Brittany asks shocked and angry.

"And you didn't tell us?" Sam asks in a surprisingly shrill voice.

Santana raises both eyebrows at him, "Ooh, you're a gossip, huh?"

"I am not!" he retorts.

"I am." Kurt freely admits, causing the three of them to turn and look at him in shock.

"Where the fuck did you come from?" Santana asks, looking around like there's some secret door he just walked through.

"You're at the hospital coffee cart. I was here when you all arrived." He replies shrugging, "I assume you two" he says gesturing to Brittany and Sam, "Just figured out about our secret star crossed lovers then." He asks.

"Star-crossed...because Beiste and Tanaka hate each other right? That's clever Lady Lips." Santana concedes, "I still prefer referring to them as Q and the hobbit."

Kurt rolls his eyes, "Of course you do."

"Wait, wait, wait." Brittany cuts in, "You both knew?!" she asks disbelievingly.

"Please, I had to listen to Rachel, whine about how Quinn wouldn't go out with her for days, _days_! It was excruciating." He sighs, pouring some milk into his coffee.

"We live with her, how can we possibly be the last people to find out about this?" Sam questions Brittany, who just shakes her head unable to understand why. The blonde boy then turns to the rest of the group, "They're both scrubbing in on surgeries today, don't you think that's a little irresponsible since neither had any sleep last night?"

"Jealous much?" Santana scoffs at him. "Quinn works hard all day. She's good at her job. Why should we care how she unwinds? I mean, you," she gestures at Brittany, "Like to bake all night. Some others like to drink. And others like an occasional screaming orgasm."

"Must you always be so crass?" Kurt asks, looking disgusted.

"Yes, actually." Santana goads with a smirk, before her face quickly drops and she looks like she's about to hurl.

"You look like you need to be spoon-fed." Kurt tells her.

Santana scoffs at him, "Yeah well you look like..." she never finishes, as Sam, Kurt and Brittany watch her run off to the nearest bathroom to presumably throw up.

* * *

Dr. Beiste actually seems to have grown a heart for a few moments and allowed Quinn to scrub in on Clare Rice's surgery. Beiste's in the middle of gently lifting Clare's bowel from her abdomen, handing the organ over to Quinn to hold, "Handle with care. This thing's..."

"Full of gunk." Quinn finishes for her, scrunching up her nose underneath her surgical mask, as she takes hold of it gently. "I know."

"We need to free the bowel from the adhesions cause from the abscess. This poor girl. What was she thinking?"

"She wants her mother's approval. She wanted to please her." Quinn explains grimly.

"And this damage is the result?" Beiste replies, shaking her head in disbelief, "Here, resect that." She tells Quinn, pointing to part of the girls bowl.

Quinn tries to hide her surprise at Beiste actually allowing her to actively participate in the surgery, "Needle-tip bovine, please." She asks the scrub nurse, handing the bowel back to Beiste to free up her hands.

"When you're done here, you have post-ops waiting."

"I know, Dr. Beiste."

"Santana's got the flu. So, you need to pick up the slack in the clinic."

"Look, I'll mop floors, okay?" Quinn snaps, earning a stern glare from Dr. Beiste, "Sorry, that was inappropriate."

"It's not the only thing that's inappropriate. While we're on the subject, you care to tell me what you think you're doing?" Beiste tells her in a low voice, so only she and Quinn can hear.

"Look, I'll jump through hoops if you want me to. But what I do when I leave this hospital is my business." Quinn argues, trying hard to focus on the job at hand.

"Half this hospital knows your business. Flu isn't the only virus spreading around here."

"I made a choice. And I know you don't respect me for that choice. But I'll live with the consequences."

"Then I'll have lost of hoops for you to jump through."

"I've done everything you've asked me to do. I may not do it your way by it gets done. So whatever else you've got, bring it on." Quinn tells her hotly, to hotly because she's so angry at Beiste bringing up her personal life in the middle of surgery she forgot to be careful with the organs she's working on. And the damn thing bursts right in her face, spraying Quinn with all the gunk that was inside.

"Okay, Dr. Fabray." Beiste says, and Quinn can practically hear the smugness in her voice. "Now that you've drained the organ, we can attempt to repair it.

"Now, my day is perfect." Quinn mumbles sarcastically.

Thankfully one of the scrub nurses helps to wipe Quinn's face free from the gross stuff. And really all it took was a change of mask and protective glasses to be free from the majority of it. She even managed to help Beiste with finishing up the surgery successfully.

"I need a shower." The blonde sighs, rolling her neck and working out the kinks from the surgery.

"_I_ need a shower. _You_ need to go tell that girl's parents what kind of kid they're getting back." Beiste tells her sternly.

And that just pushes Quinn over the edge, "You know what Dr. Beiste, I've done everything you've asked me to do. I've done it all without complaint. But you bringing up my personal life in the middle of an OR was unprofessional. You singling me out, over the rest of the interns, is unprofessional. Is it because it was a girl you caught me with? I mean is that it? Have you some kind of problem with same-sex couples?"

Beiste glares hard at Quinn for a few moments, Quinn figures she must have really pissed the woman off, but then Beiste releases a long breath and her face softens slightly, "You poor girl. You really have no idea what you've got yourself into do you?" she says before walking away from the blonde.

Quinn has no idea what that's even suppose to mean, but she's tired, well exhausted to be more precise and she honestly can't bring herself to try and work it out right now. She heads straight for the locker room, pushing through the doors, and past Brittany who's standing at the sinks washing her hands to where Santana's laying flat on her back along a bench with her arm slung over her eyes.

"Ew. What smells?" Brittany asks scrunching up her nose is disgust.

Quinn sighs heavily, placing her foot on the bench to untie her shoes, "That would be me, or more specifically, my patient's insides all over me."

"That makes me strangely happy." Brittany replies, with a small smile, sitting by Santana's feet.

"Oh, God. Oh Quinn, you smell like..." Santana starts, but trails off, her attention focused on Quinn's hair, "Something vile is stuck in your hair. You know what? Just, go, stand over there, please." She asks waving her arm in the general direction.

Quinn walks over to one of the mirrors at the end of a locker bay, and takes in her reflection, spotting the 'something vile' in her hair, "Ugh, how much do I love being a surgeon right now?"

* * *

Quinn finishes up in the shower as quick as she possibly can, throwing her wet blonde hair into a pony tail, before going to find Clare's parents in the hospital waiting area.

As soon as she finds then she offers to walk them up to Clare's room, explaining how the surgery went on their way, "We were able to reverse the gastric bypass, but we did lose a significant portion of her bowel. And because of the short gut syndrome, Clare will never eat normally again. Things like getting proper nutrition will be a lifelong problem for Clare."

"Great, as if we already don't have our hands full with her." Mrs. Rice sighs.

Quinn's had enough of this woman and her constant need to make her daughter sound like crap. "She gets good grades. She stays out of trouble. She's smart. I just think she feels like nothing she does is good enough for you." She tells the woman.

Mrs. Rice turns to Quinn glowering at her angrily, "If you somehow think that I'm responsible for this..."

"I think Clare is killing herself to please you." Quinn interrupts.

"Oh, please." Mrs. Rice scoffs turning away from Quinn, and sitting down, "You have no idea what's going on in that girl's mind."

Except Quinn does, she knows too well what's going on inside Clare's mind. "You're her mother. She worships the ground you walk on. She didn't do this for herself."

"I think that this situation is completely..." Mrs. Rice begins, fuming at Quinn but is quickly interrupted by the raised voice of her husband.

"Tina...Shut up." He shouts at her, causing his wife and Quinn to turn to him in surprise as he walks away towards his daughter's room.

* * *

Sam's still moping around since catching Rachel sneak out of Quinn's house this morning. Even getting to scrub into a pretty radical surgery with little Jamie that included removing half the toddler's brain hasn't been enough to cheer him up today.

He's on an elevator, after having left Jamie back to her room to allow her to sleep off her anesthesia it stops at a floor, the other 3 people riding it with him get off. He's about to relax and enjoy the peaceful ride alone in the elevator, but he hears someone call out to hold the doors, and on reflex her sticks out his hand to stop the doors closing.

When the doors open fully and he realizes it was Rachel he just saved the elevator for, he kind of wishes he wasn't so courteous.

"Hey" Rachel greet, with a small smile as she climbs onto the elevator. "Thanks, you know for holding the elevator."

Sam just nods his head in greeting, smiling tightly at the brunette.

"How did Jamie get on in surgery? It must have been a really amazing surgery to scrub in on." Rachel continues conversationally.

"She's fine. Just sleeping it off." Sam replies shortly.

Rachel raises her eyebrows in surprise at how Sam's speaking to her; considering it's fairly well know that he's a genuinely nice guy. She studies his face, as he stares forward, it finally clicking in her mind. "You saw me leave the house this morning, didn't you?"

"Oh, was that you?" Sam asks, trying his best to sounds surprised.

"Mmhmm."

"You know Beiste's been pushing her pretty hard the past couple of days."

"Yeah. That's probably my fault; Beiste doesn't like me very much." Rachel admits freely.

Sam finally turns to face the short brunette, "And you think that's fair?"

"No. I don't at all. But it's Quinn's decision."

"She's pretty great, you know." He tells her wistfully.

"Yeah." Rachel smiles warmly, "She is."

Sam nods his head kind of crestfallen, but he realizes that he doesn't really have any right to be upset with the brunette, or Quinn he never exactly made an out and out attempt to woe the blonde or anything. Plus, he figures, Rachel isn't really so bad. Although, maybe he should go out and get drunk with Puck tonight, just to ease the sting.

* * *

Quinn's relieved when her day is finally over, she's completely shattered. In the end she decided perhaps it was best if she called social services and got them to contact Clare Rice's parents, to help the girl. The face that the first thing Clare asked when she woke up was if she would get fat was the determining factor for Quinn. It literally broke her heart that this poor girl thought the only way to get her own mother to love her was by staying under a size 6. Life shouldn't be that hard for any 17 year old.

She also ended up having to stay late to finish up more post-op notes for Dr. Beiste, although that did mean she had a drive home alone. Brittany had finished up early and Sam left with Puck so she didn't have to sit through anymore awkward silences, or stifled conversations on the drive. The one thing that confused her was that Santana seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, because she's usually the last one to ever leave the hospital. But Quinn just put it down to how sick she'd been earlier.

When she finally makes it home she heads straight for the kitchen, finding Brittany standing by the counter, finishing spreading some icing around a cake.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now." Quinn comments as she moves towards the fridge.

"Yeah, well, I'm not. If you wait a few minutes, you can have a piece of cake. Backed it chock-full of love. Actually chock-full of unrelenting, all consuming rage and hostility, but it's still tasty."

"Okay..." Quinn really isn't use to dealing with angry Brittany, she shuts the fridge door again, "Why are you so mad at me?" she asks, leaning back against the kitchen bench.

"Because...because I thought we were friends. Friends who confide in each other about our lives. I mean I told you I was bisexual, wasn't that the perfect time for you to share with me if you were gay, or bisexual, or Rachel-sexual, or whatever you are?"

So Brittany knows about Rachel, okay... "Brittany...I never...I don't..."

"You never thought of telling me right? Because I'm not Santana. I just...I thought we were friends. But really it's you and Santana being bff and then there's the rest of us."

"We are friends Britt. I'm sorry I didn't tell you okay? I'm just...I'm really new to this having friends thing. This _real_ friend thing. I'm not use to having people to share with." She pushes herself off the counter, moving towards where Brittany is still angrily spreading icing. "She's coming over in a bit, what if I introduce you properly?"

"Fine." Brittany replies curtly, trying to sound like she doesn't care, but Quinn catches the tiniest of smiles pulling at her lips and knows she's forgiven.

"So...do you want the long, sordid version? Or so you want the short version, where I slept with a girl who turned out to be on the same surgical internship as me?"

"Long, sordid version Quinn, always the long sordid version." Brittany teases, bumping her hip against the shorter blondes. "It can wait though, until it's just us and a bottle of wine and some movies." Brittany relents, they exchange smiles, both relieved to have cleared the air. "I still don't get why Beiste's so harsh on you though. Santana mentioned it was because of Rachel. Don't you ever think that it's not worth it, I mean sure the sex sounds awesome but all that added pressure at work for..." she stops dead staring at Quinn for a moment, "Oh, my god. You're falling for her!"

"I am not!"

"Oh, you so are. Damn, you poor baby."

"You know, it's just that she's so...and I'm just...I'm having a hard time." And really she is because there are all these thoughts and feelings and things that just end up confusing Quinn.

"Wow, you're all mushy and...Warm and full of secret feelings." Brittany teases, handing Quinn a big slice of cake.

Quinn glowers at Brittany a few moments, because she never had to think about any of that stuff until Brittany brought it up and now..."I hate you!" She tells the taller blonde, who actually has the audacity to smirk, "And your cake." Quinn yells, even as she takes a mouthful of it.

"My cake is good." Brittany retorts, and Quinn can't really argue cause...yeah it really is good. "So tell me...how hot is the sex?"

"Brittany!"

"What? Come on, I'm not getting _any_. Help a girl out with a few details." She asks, smiling pleadingly at Quinn.

Thankfully Quinn's saved from having to answer where there's a timid knock on the door, she playfully glares at Brittany one last time, as she makes her way towards the door, yelping and giggling when the taller blonde slaps her ass on the way past.

She's still grinning when she opens the door to reveal a tired looking Rachel standing there. "Hey." She greets, reaching for the brunette's waist and dipping her head to kiss her.

"Hi." Rachel replies, after they part, "That was weird, you're usually pretty adamant about sneaking me in as fast as possible so we don't get found out by your friends."

"Yeah...about that, I think maybe..." She trails off, deciding to just grab Rachel's hand and lead her towards the kitchen, "There's someone I want you to meet." When they enter the room, Brittany's in the middle of making some coffee. "Rachel...this is my friend, Brittany." Brittany beams at Quinn bouncing over to the pair and giving them both a tight hug, "Brittany, Rachel" Quinn manages to mumble against the taller blonde's shoulder.

Once Brittany lets them go, Rachel raises a questioning eyebrow to Quinn, because really she knows Brittany, they've worked together she doesn't need to be introduced, but Quinn just shakes her head, mouthing the word "Later".

That's good enough for Rachel as she turns and focuses her attention on the taller blonde, "It's really great to be officially introduced to Quinn's friend." The brunette tells Brittany politely, "She's actually told me a lot about you." Which just makes Brittany beam even wider.

"Has she told you how awesome my chocolate cake is?" she asks excitedly, she doesn't even give Rachel a chance to answer, just pushing her shoulders and steering her towards the breakfast bar, "You're just in time to try some." She tells the brunette, waving an amused looking Quinn over to sit next to Rachel.

Brittany passes a slice of cake to Rachel, stopping and watching until she takes a bite of it, "Mmm, this is really good, Thanks Brittany." Rachel mumbles around a mouthful. Satisfied that Rachel's enjoying her cake the bubble blond moves across the kitchen again to finish up preparing the coffee.

Quinn leans over, close to Rachel's ear, whispering "I thought you were vegan?"

"I am" the brunette replies keeping the same volume as Quinn.

"You realize that cake probably isn't vegan friendly."

Rachel shrugs helplessly, "She seemed so excited, I couldn't say no to her. And damn her! This cake is so fricking good" she finishes, looking down at what's left of the slice with a pout.

Quinn bites down on her lip, trying to contain her smile at how adorable the brunette looks right now, "If it makes you feel any better, I can't say no to her either. I blame her big innocent blue eyes."

Rachel makes a soft hum of agreement, just as Brittany arrives back at the breakfast bar, placing a cup of coffee in front of each girl. "What are you two love birds whispering about?" She asks innocently.

Quinn and Rachel share a look, deciding now isn't a good time to share with the tall blonde about Rachel's vegan diet, instead Rachel covers quickly, gesturing to the cake with her fork, "Just how awesome this cake is."

Brittany nods easily, resting her elbows on the counter and taking a long sip from her mug, she looks over to Quinn sending a mischievous smile her way, leaving Quinn confused as Brittany turns to Rachel, "So Rachel...Quinn was just about to tell me all about the hot sex you two have be having." Causing Rachel to choke on the piece of cake she'd just put in her mouth, and Quinn to drop her head onto her arms, trying to hide her face. Brittany would admit though, it's kind of cute that they're both wearing matching flushed cheeks.

_**Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know… maybe we just wouldn't feel real.**_

They sit and chat with Brittany for most of the evening, and Quinn has to admit, it was kind of nice. Rachel and Brittany got on great, which doesn't really surprise Quinn since Brittany gets on great with anyone, and she genuinely found herself enjoying her evening. Okay so maybe it helped that Rachel kept a hold of her hand all night. Still though Quinn thought if people started finding out about her and Rachel it would make things more complicated and harder, but it was so _un_complicated, and...natural. And you know, maybe she wouldn't be opposed to doing it again sometime.

Finally though their exhaustion catches up with them and they say goodnight to Brittany. Quinn takes a hold of Rachel's hand and leads her upstairs, when they get to the door and spot Quinn's bed they both stop and stare at each other, because this is usually the point their tearing each other's clothes off. And Quinn wants to...she does, it's just she's so, _so_ tired and...

"You know" Rachel's voice pulls her from her through "we could just..."

"Sleep?" Quinn finishes for her.

"We could, yeah, if...if you want to." Rachel tells her, her voice sounding as tired as Quinn feels.

"Yeah?" she asks hopefully, because really they've never had a sleep over that didn't involve sex in some way, and it just seems to make things more...serious between them and honestly she wasn't sure if Rachel would want to stay over if they weren't going to have sex.

Rachel sends her a dozy nod of the head, already dragging Quinn towards the bed. The both strip down to their underwear, except it actually takes a lot longer than usual since their movements are so sluggish.

Rachel climbs in first, lying on her side and letting her head fall listlessly onto the pillow, and Quinn climbs in after, facing her, sliding an arm over the brunette's waist. Their legs almost automatically entwine, and they shift closer until their nose to nose.

"Oh, thank god." Quinn mumbles. She loves having sex with Rachel, she really does. But sometimes a girl just needs to sleep. And with Rachel's body pressed against her own and the brunettes lips placing a soft lazy kiss on her forehead, Quinn's pretty sure this will be one of the best night's sleep she's ever had.

_**What's that saying? "Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer?" "Because it feels so good when I stop."**_


	8. Save Me

_**Guys I'm more than happy to answer your questions. But if you ask them here without being signed in, or in anon: I can't reply! But if you prefer to ask them anon, you can do that over on my tumblr: hopematters-x I'll get back to you asap.**_

_**Thank you all for the continued support, glad you're all enjoying it!**_

* * *

_**You know how when you were a little kid, and you believed in fairy tales? That fantasy of what your life would be. White dress, Prince Charming, who'd carry you away to a castle on a hill. You'd lie in bed at night and close your eyes, and you had complete and utter faith.**_

Quinn shifted in her bed, her eyes fluttering open. She lifts her head far enough off the pillow to check the time groaning and dropping her head back to the pillow when she realizes she woke up 10 minutes before her alarm was due to go off. She languidly stretches her arms above her head, stretching out stiff muscles, humming contently when she finally relaxes her body back into the warm mattress.

Her body ached, but the good kind of ache. The kind of ache that she's become accustomed to waking with over the past few weeks, well the nights Rachel's stayed over anyways. That ache that only comes after going one too many rounds the night before. It isn't something she particularly minds, there are much worse ways to wake up.

She rolls over to her right, her eyes landing on the brunette, who's currently sprawled face down on the bed, her head turned towards Quinn, her arms tucked underneath the pillow. Hazel eyes trail down Rachel's arms, down the smooth exposed caramel skin of the brunette's back and she can't help but let her mind drift.

It's been weeks since her confrontation with Beiste, literally weeks. In that time she and Rachel have been spending more and more time together, well as much time as two surgical interns can spare. And it's been fun, and stress free, and honestly time with Rachel is a great distraction from her usual worries of her mother. And yeah she should probably feel bad about that fact she hasn't been to see her mother so much in the past few weeks...but it's depressing, and time with Rachel isn't and yeah.

Besite's even gotten bored of singling Quinn out but still..._'__You poor girl. You really have no idea what you've got yourself into do you?_' She wishes she could just forget what Beiste said, she really wishes she could but...really what does she know about Rachel? They spend almost every waking moment together but that's usually spent in the throes of passion and Rachel rarely if ever divulges personal information. Except for maybe once, but that was like well over a month ago and she was still trying to get Quinn to sleep with her at that stage.

But then deep brown eyes flutter open and meet Quinn's and she finds the thoughts begin drifting to the back of her mind as her lips curve into a smile. And they fall completely from her mind when the brunette sends a sleepy smile back, with a husky "Morning."

"Good morning." Quinn replies quietly.

Rachel's arm stretches across the bed, wrapping around a slim waist and tugging slightly. Quinn takes the hint and shuffles towards the brunette, who lifts herself up onto one elbow, pressing her lips softly against the blonde's for a chaste kiss, "Mmm, now it's a good morning."

"You are such a dork." Quinn chuckles, pushing against the brunette's shoulders.

Except Rachel refuses to budge from her position above Quinn, she can't help but smile down as hazel eyes sparkle up at her in amusement, dipping her head for another kiss, regretfully pulling away from it moments later, with a softly whispered, "Dammit" when Quinn's alarm finally sounds. She stretches over to shut the alarm off, but then gets distracted when the blonde beneath her begins to nip at her jaw. Then, before she even has a chance to react, Quinn's switched their positions, and she finds herself underneath a very smug looking Quinn Fabray.

The blonde leans down to begin trailing kisses down Rachel's neck. "You" she begins, before pausing and licking a trail between the brunette's breasts, "Are... So... Sexy," she mumbles against the skin of Rachel's stomach between kisses.

"So are you," Rachel gasps, dragging one hand over the blonde's shoulders as Quinn works her lips lower to make Rachel's _good_ morning, mind-blowing.

_**Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close, you could taste them. But eventually, you grow up. One day you open your eyes, and the fairy tale disappears. Most people, turn to the things and people they can trust.**_

Downstairs in the kitchen Brittany slams her latest batch of cupcakes down onto the counter, throwing her oven mitts down next to them, as Sam makes an eager grab for the fresh batch.

"8 Hours. 16 ounces of chocolate. And 32 cupcakes, and they _still _don't taste right." She fumes, as she makes her way to start working her way through the huge pile of dishes in the sink.

"No, these are good. Martha Stewart would be proud." Sam manages to mumble out through a mouthful of said cupcakes.

"Yeah, look where it got her." She pauses for a minute, looking around the kitchen at her multiple batches intently, "There's something missing. Some _specific_ ingredient. Why can't I remember?" she looks towards the sky hoping for some kind of divine inspiration to help her remember, but sadly comes up short.

Sam smiles sadly at her, "Look, just call her. Call you mother and ask." Reaching out and continuing his incredibly healthy breakfast feast.

"I don't want to call my mother." Brittany replies petulantly, even managing a pout.

* * *

They're both running behind schedule. Even though Quinn learnt after the first time Rachel stayed over that she should afford them a few extra minutes in the mornings to get ready, considering how the brunette has a fondness for morning sex. Which come to think of it, Quinn kind of has a fondness for too. This morning it didn't quite work as well, considering they decided to share a shower (to save time), yet it only lead to another tryst.

Eventually though they both manage to get ready, Quinn finishes up with hair and wanders across the hall towards the bathroom where Rachel is currently stood at the sink, brushing her teeth; she leans against the door frame, watching the brunette for a few moments. "So let's sleep are you house tonight." Quinn states nonchalantly, as if it's something they do all the time. Even though they don't. Ever.

Rachel pauses her actions, looking at Quinn through the mirror, "What?" she asks through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"I mean, why are we always sleeping at my house? Do you even have one?"

"One What?" Rachel asks, after spitting out her mouthful of toothpaste.

Quinn rolls her eyes, "A house. With a closet. You know with your stuff in it. Your _personal_ stuff. Do you even have one of those?"

"Mmm." Rachel answers noncommittally. Which really, serves no other purpose but to further incense the blonde. The brunette smirks as she brushes past Quinn, snatching a quick kiss on her way back to the blonde's bedroom.

* * *

"Good morning!" Rachel greets Brittany and Sam brightly as she enters the kitchen, heading straight towards the cupboard to fetch a bowl.

"Hey. You guys what a cupcake?" Sam offers.

"Oh, no. Thank you." Rachel declines politely, grabbing a box of cereal in her free hand.

"Brittany made them." He tries again.

Rachel sends him a polite smile, shaking her head to decline. Before turning her attention back to Quinn and their earlier conversation, "You know, I like it here. You said so yourself, you like having your things around, sleeping in your own bed."

"You're like a health nut, aren't ya? You eat muesli every morning." Sam interrupts as he watches the now familiar pattern of Rachel's morning routine.

"No, I don't." The brunette replies, kicking the fridge closed behind her.

"Okay, the muesli thing, you do." Brittany confirms, before adding as an afterthought "The last seven days, at least."

"Oh, come on! I haven't been here for a whole week." The brunette argues disbelievingly, as she takes in everyone sitting around her, "Have I?"

"See! Even they think it's weird!" Quinn exclaims, slamming her hands down onto the kitchen table. She gets up to grab her own breakfast things, sending Rachel a glare on her way past.

_**But the thing is… it's hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely. Because almost everyone still has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they'll open their eyes, and it will all come true.**_

After rounds Beiste assigns everyone to their duties for the day, leaving Santana and Quinn until last, telling them that Psych brought down a patient and they should go find the Psych intern to learn about the case. Sadly for them the Psych intern is a sniveling, creepy, guy called Jacob Ben Israel, with a very unfortunate afro.

Santana doesn't even bother with any niceties, simply grabbing the file from him and placing the scans up to look at them. Quinn's slightly more polite, giving him a small smile, as she reads over the notes.

"If this guy belongs in Psych. What are you doing turfing him here?" Santana asks as she takes a closer look at each of the scans.

"He's my gift to you. Had a seizure two days ago and another this morning." The Psych Doctor tells them, well leers at them in a way that makes them both feel decidedly uncomfortable

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asks, reading through the patients file, with Santana looking closely over her shoulder "It says right here, 'He talks to dead people, his family thinks he's dangerous. They had him committed' that's Psych, not Neuro."

"Didn't you go to med school Jewfro?" Santana taunts, causing Quinn to laugh at how quick she can come up with alternative names for people.

"Yes, and unlike the correspondence school you attended-" He begins to argue before being quickly cut off by the brunette.

"Oh, that would be Stanford, right?"

"..._I_ learned not to jump to conclusions." He finishes, gulping slightly as Santana approaches him looking quite threatening. "Sorry, ladies. We can't take him back until he's cleared."

"So you're dumping him on us?" Santana asks incredulously.

"He thinks his seizures are visions."

The patient, who's been sat in his room, listening to the doctors talk in the hall, finally intervenes, "Hello! They're not seizures. I'm psychic!"

"Of course you are, and I'm a chicken." Santana sneers in reply.

Quinn actually has to bite back her smile, walking into the patient's room and politely talking to him, "Okay, Mr. Duff. We're gonna start our workup now."

"Work we up, work me down. I'm telling you it's a waste of time."

"Okay well, humor us. Can you grip my fingers, please?" Santana asks as politely as she can. As soon as he takes hold of Santana's hand he goes into some kind of trance, staring at Santana, but not quite at her, more through her. "Mr. Duff?" Santana asks cautiously, but receives no answer as he continues to stare through her.

"Mr. Duff, are you okay?" Quinn asks shaking his shoulder slightly.

Mr. Duff shakes himself from his trance, looking between Quinn and Santana, obviously still slightly disorientated, "Someone...someone's gonna check out. Bye-bye."

Santana drops his hands, rolling her eyes as she groans, "Oh man, he _is_ nuts."

"I'm dizzy, not deaf, lady. And I'm telling you, someone on the fourth floor is gonna die." He repeats. Quinn and Santana share a disbelieving look, the blonde opening her mouth to say something before being interrupted by the PA system.

"_Code blue, Fourth floor. Code blue, fourth floor"_ Both doctors turn to the door in time to see a code team running past the room, sharing a bewildered looking before quickly leaving the room.

* * *

A little later as Santana's walking along the corridor, holding her stomach, still looking ill, Sam comes running up to her, looking like an excited golden retriever, "Fourth floor, dead guy. The psychic predicted the fourth floor dead guy!"

"Oh please. ICUs on the fourth floor. I could have predicted someone dying there too, thanks to my psychic Mexican third eye." She sneers at him sarcastically, coming to a stop at a nurse's station and leaning heavily against it. "I need someone to cover me on the 16th. You in?"

Sam through isn't looking at her, he's looking over her shoulder, too busy focusing on Quinn and Rachel as they walk down the corridor towards them, "I'm thinking about letting my hair grow a little. Maybe try being brunette a while. What do you think?" he muses as the pair turn the corner and head down another corridor.

Santana can't really do much else but roll her eyes; does he seriously think dying his hair is going to woo Quinn away from Rachel? "The 16th Trouty." Santana snaps, getting his attention back on her, "Can you cover me or not?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess. Why?"

"It's none of your business." Santana snaps before walking away.

"A thank you would be nice." Sam mumbles.

* * *

Quinn and Rachel _were _walking down the hall, but then Rachel spots a store room, and can't resist the temptation, quickly grabbing Quinn's arm and pulling the blonde inside of it. Quinn squeaks in surprise, but the brunette doesn't waste any time in pinning her against the door and kissing her hard. It doesn't take Quinn too long to respond though; she's soon kissing Rachel back just as eagerly.

They continue to kiss for a few more minutes until Quinn pulls away abruptly, "No, no we can't do this."

"Why?" Rachel asks perplexed and kind frustrated because she was just about to go for second base.

"It's just, well I've been thinking, about us and we never…we never really talk."

"We're talking right now." Rachel deadpans, before leaning in and pressing her lips against the blonde's once more.

"It's just…it's just that I hardly know anything about you." Quinn mumbles between kisses.

"You know I'm from New York. You know I like ferry boats."

"Enough with the ferry boats!" Quinn snaps pushing at Rachel's shoulder to put some space between them, "What about your friends?"

"I'm a surgical intern. I don't have friends." The brunette retorts, dipping her head to nip and suck at the blonde's neck.

"Everybody has friends. I mean, fuck..." she groans when Rachel nips a particularly sensitive spot, "Who do you hang out with? What do you...what do you...do on your days off? These are important questions."

"Important for who?" the brunette asks as her hands slip under Quinn's scrub top, scrapping her nails along the taunt muscle of the blonde's abs.

"We're having sex every night." Quinn manages to choke out, tightening her grip in the brunette's hair and pulling her in for another heated kiss, "I think I deserve details."

Rachel pulls back smirking at the blonde, "You have more details than most." She jokes with raised eyebrows, as her hands start tugging at the waistband of Quinn's scrubs.

"See, this is going somewhere weird. I want facts." She takes a hold of Rachel's hands stopping their movements. "And until I get them...my pants are staying on!"

Rachel sighs in frustration, "Or you could just roll with it. Be flexible. See what happens."

"I'm not flexible." Quinn glares, causing Rachel to laugh.

"Well I know that's not true." Rachel replies with a smirk. At the sound of a pager going off, they both simultaneously look down to check theirs, "I've got to go." Rachel tells her when she realizes it's her pager. She pulls back from Quinn, leaving a hand on the blonde's hip and squeezing slightly, "Look -we'll find these things out. That's the fun part. You know? That's the gravy." She gives Quinn a quick peck on the lips before heading out the door.

"That is what I'm talking about. I don't want to be your gravy." Quinn calls after the brunette.

* * *

Back in Mr. Duff's room, Santana's busy removing the electrodes from her patient's head, after having carried out an EEG on him.

"A little Botox would do wonders on those frown lines." Mr. Duff tells her.

"Okay. Shut up." Santana snaps, pulling the last electrode off rather harshly.

"Are you allowed to talk to me like that?" he asks as he rubs the sore point on his temple, instead of answering him verbally, Santana turns to practically hiss at him. He smiles at her, huffing out a laugh, "God you're hot...in a Mrs. Livingston kind of way."

She ignores his...kind of compliment, "See here?" Santana asks, showing him the EEG graph. "These are spikes in your temporal lobe. It means you have epilepsy. Not visions. Seizures."

"You think I'm epileptic? That is so not right."

"I'm gonna order an MRI so I can take a closer look at your brain." Santana mumbles distractedly as she takes a closer look at the results.

"Yeah, there's no way..." He trails off, staring at Santana much like he did earlier in the day as he starts to have another 'vision'.

"Mr. Duff?" Santana asks with a concerned tone. "Mr. Duff, can you see me?" She asks, shining her penlight into each of his eyes, "Can you hear me? Stay with me."

"I wouldn't have picked you for the mommy track, Nurse Betty." He murmurs. Santana stares at him in shock, because she hasn't told anyone that she's pregnant. Not even Quinn. "See? I told you I know things. This pregnancy thing, you can't run away from it." He tells her seriously. Santana quickly lets go of him, placing her penlight back into her lab coat pocket, grabbing his file and leaving his room as quickly as possible.

She goes to find Dr. Beiste straight away, finding her a few moments later standing by the nurse's station next to a bored looking Brittany. She sends the blonde a small smile in greeting as she approaches them, "Dr. Beiste, I want off the psychic case. I'll take whatever you've got. Can I switch?"

Beiste doesn't look up from what she's doing, "Ask nicely."

"Uh..." Santana begins kind of at a loss, her eyes quickly shifting over to Brittany "that was me doing it nicely." Causing Beiste to stop what she's doing to turn and glare at Santana.

Thankfully Brittany seems to sense Santana's desperation and she pipes in to saves the brunette "Look, I know the type. These guys just want everybody to think they're a slideshow. Let me take him."

"I don't do switches." Beiste states firmly.

"I'll do your post-op notes for a month." Santana tells her desperately.

"Fine. I can accept that. Brittany, you get Psych guy." Beiste relents, taking the file from Santana's hands and passing it to Brittany, Santana sends the blonde a very thankful smile for helping her. "Lopez. This is your lucky day. You get to be with me on the breast cancer." Santana nods eagerly, because anything's better than being on a case where she's constantly going to be reminded of her current predicament, "And there's spotting. So you'll need to do a pelvic. She's pregnant."

_Shit._

* * *

Quinn's having an exceptionally boring day today, she kind of wishes Beiste was still on her case because at least then she had stuff to do. She has the psychic guy, but Brittany's just jumped on board with that so she's hogging the guys file at the minute. Which leaves Quinn with just...nothing to do. Which is probably why she went against her better judgment and decided to join Rachel in the MRI room to give a second opinion of her patients scans before the brunette takes them to Dr. Scheuster.

"The guy's films are clear. There's no reason I can see for his creeping paralysis." Quinn comments, as she looks over the brunettes shoulder at the computer screen.

"Yeah, I was expecting an intrusion into the spinal space or a blood clot or just _something_." Rachel replies, taking another look at the scan.

Quinn moves away from the brunette's chair, folding her arms against her chest, "Well, you were wrong. You don't always get what you expect, do you?" she replies haughtily.

Rachel turns to look at her, surprised at Quinn's tone. "What is your problem?" she asks with a shocked smile on her face. Still a smile because even when Quinn's being all prissy, she's still kind of adorable.

Quinn sighs heavily, because seriously, they're just going round in circles today, "Give me something to go on. Anything. What are your grandparents' names?"

"I don't have grandparents."

"Where'd you grow up? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? Where'd you spend your summer vacations?"

"Lighten up." Rachel tells her, grabbing the scans and placing them in a folder to take to Dr. Schue. "It'll be good for your blood pressure." She shouts over her shoulder as she leaves.

"Oh, don't you tell me to lighten up." Quinn replies, even though Rachel's already out of earshot. "I'll lighten up when I...feel light." She trails of weakly.

* * *

It's just Quinn's luck that her psych patient is in the bed right next to Rachel's patient. So when Quinn makes it back to her patient, she finds Rachel in the middle of examining hers.

"Any change, Mr. Walker?" Rachel asks just as Quinn enters the room.

"I can't move my legs at all now." He tells Rachel, in a panicked voice.

"He said he was moving his legs when he came in. What's wrong with him?" Mrs. Walker, the man's wife asks nervously.

"I don't know. The paralysis is moving quickly and there was nothing in the MRI to explain it." Rachel explains calmly, even though she looks kind of at a loss.

This is a pretty interesting case, considering the poor guy is losing feeling throughout more and more of his body. But Quinn's seen the guys scans, there didn't appear to be any psychical reason for it. "Has your husband been under any stress recently?" she questions his wife.

"You know what's making me stressed? Being in here and not being able to move." Mr. Walker snaps. Quinn smiles politely at him, while she takes a hold of Rachel's arm and pulls her closer to the curtain separating their patients to speak with her quietly.

"Emotional trauma can be converted into something physical, right? Like hysterical numbness or paralysis. Maybe there is no physiological reason, and he's just having a conversion reaction?" Quinn offers.

"You think it's psychosomatic?" Rachel asks as she ponders over the possibility.

Just as Quinn's about to reply again, the curtain from Quinn's patient flies open and Mr. Duff comes walking out, with a frustrated Brittany behind trying to get him back into his bed. "It is not in your head, man. I believe you." He tells Rachel's patient.

"Mr. Duff, Please." Brittany asks, surprisingly calmly as she drags him back behind the curtain.

Rachel turns to Quinn looking confused, "Who was that?"

"My patient. Psych sent him down. He has visions." Quinn explains.

"Is that it? Am I crazy?" Mr. Walker yells from his bed as his wife rubs his arm comfortingly.

"No." Rachel reassures him straight away, moving to his bedside, "No. We'll order a higher-level MRI. We'll figure it out."

* * *

Brittany and Quinn came to a deal over their patient, while Quinn goes to discuss the case with Dr. Scheuster, Brittany gets to take him for his MRI. In all honesty they did a quick game of 'rock paper scissors' to decided to got to take their patient, considering he managed to creep Santana out enough to scare her away, they figure they would have no chance against him.

"Your nostrils are flaring." Mr. Duff tells Brittany, as she gets him situated onto the MRI.

"They are not." She argues.

"You're into me. I can tell. 'Dr. Small and Angry' she was a hot appetizer, the other blonde Doc, she's hot yeah, but clearly not into me. But you, Doc are a smorgasbord of lust." He tells her with confidence.

She levels him with a glare, "Mr. Duff, you're pressing your luck."

"Would you press it for me?" he quips.

She stops her actions, taking a deep breath and remembers to stay calm, "I hope you're not claustrophobic." She tells him honestly, except when she looks down for an answer he's just staring at her. "You're staring at me. Stop it."

"I'm looking at you, sweetheart." He tells her taking a hold of her hand, "But it's the strangest thing. I'm hungry for a chocolate cupcake."

"What did you say?"

"A chocolate cupcake. Maybe one of those fudgey things with the white squiggle on the frosting. Could you oblige?"

Okay so she's a little creeped out, but she refuses to believe this guy is actually a psychic. "What, do I still have some chocolate on my face or in my hair or something?"

"What are you talking about?" he asks confused.

"You. I know the drill, so keep it up. Next you'll be reading my cards, telling me my dead uncle is in the room."

Mr. Duff's eyes widen dramatically, "Is he?" he whispers playfully, looking around the room.

"I don't have a dead uncle." She narrows her eyes at the man. Pushing the button to start the MRI "I'm watching you." She tells him as he disappears into the machine.

* * *

Santana's hiding out in the deserted hallway, picking at a sandwich, she really should eat, she knows that, but as soon as she brings the sandwich to her mouth she smells it and drops it in disgust. Sam enters, closely followed by Brittany.

"If that's turkey, can I have some?" Sam asks as he jumps onto the gurney beside her, "I've had the worst day. I couldn't even intrubate someone."

"It's soggy." Santana warns him.

Quinn arrives just then, lifting the sandwich just before Sam gets a hold of it, and smelling it quickly scrunching up her nose "Why does everything in a hospital smell like a hospital."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Sam. Everybody makes mistakes." Brittany tells him as she ruffles his hair.

"You know, I'm good at a lot of things." Sam protests.

Santana's had just about enough of listening to him whine, "You know what. I'm gonna tell you something. Hey, guppy. You needs to get laid. See that nurse over there?" She points to a red-head nurse, who's in the middle of getting something from a vending machine, "She's single. She's got...red hair. Go ask her out."

"In case you forgot, I intubated an esophagus." Sam mumbles dejectedly.

She grabs hold of the collar of his scrubs, bringing his face close to hers, "I am trying to help you. Go buy her a latte and freshen up your gonads, please." She tells him through gritted teeth, before pushing him away and storming off, with Quinn following close behind, you know just in case she decides to attack someone.

He sighs heavily, and contemplates what Santana told him, I mean she is just trying to help him out, even if her methods are kind of scary. He see's Brittany toying with her phone from the corner of his eye. "It's not too late to call her, you know. Moms like that, surprises on their birthdays. It's very Hallmark."

She glares at him, shaking her head, but he doesn't take it personally, just giving her knee a squeeze before leaving her alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Sadly for Brittany she lost her and Quinn's second game of' rock, paper, scissors', so it's up to her to wake Beiste from her sleep and give her the update on Mr. Duff's case. She finds Beiste, sprawled out face down on a gurney, she approaches her reluctantly, and gives her shoulder a quick tap.

"What?" comes a muffled reply.

"We did an angio on the Psych case. The MRI came out clean, but we saw a ditzel. There's something here." She figures Beiste would appreciate her going straight to the point.

Beiste groggily sits up, snatching the films from Brittany's hands and giving them a once over. "Yep, you're right. There's an AVM on his left temporal lobe."

Brittany nods her head, pleased she and Quinn called it right, "I'll schedule the OR for tonight then." She tells Beiste as she begins to walk away.

"Ohh, back up, girl."

Brittany turns around confused about why she has to wait, "There's high risk of spontaneous hemorrhage."

"The attending has to see films. We need consent forms. Believe it or not, Pierce, we have to follow protocol. Take a breath."

"But if the AVM looks like it's gonna blow, we fix it, right?"

"If the man needs to be fixed, we'll fix him in due time. Why are you moving so quickly? You get too involved with your patients, Brittany. Why do you make everything so personal?"

"It's not personal. Beiste glares at her, clearly not believing her, "It's not." She tries again.

* * *

Quinn is the one who goes to show the attending, Dr. Schue, Mr. Duff's scans. Considering she actually offered to do it Brittany assumes it's probably because Rachel's on one of his other case and Quinn probably wanted to see her. As soon as Dr. Schue confirms that the man needs surgery, Quinn sends Brittany a text to let her know.

She finds Mr. Duff sitting in the chair in his room, working on a crossword. "You need to sign these consent forms so we can proceed with your surgery."

He looks up from where he was focused, swiping his eyes quickly over the forms in Brittany's hands before focusing his eyes on her, "Sweetheart, I'm not signing anything unless it's got my name on it followed by a whole bunch of zeros."

She leans her hip against the table in front of him, placing her hand on her other hip, "Look, the AVM is located in this crucial part of the brain. It's a tangle of blood vessels that could burst and affect your speech, among other things. So, we know your visions are actually seizures."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?" she snaps impatiently.

"Know they're seizures."

"You're really good at reading people, aren't you? Telling them what they want to hear? Ok, I know what you're doing. You watch people, read their body language. You say 'chocolate cupcakes', I lean towards you, so you think you're on the right track. Not only do you know you're having seizures, but you're milking it."

"Hmm. Well, we'll just see about that, cricket."

Brittany freezes on the spot, "What? What did you just call me?" the most infuriating part for Brittany I that the damn patient just smirks at her and continues with his crossword.

* * *

Quinn's in one of the research computer labs; it was the quietest place she could find to fill in her patient charts. She just opened up a new one to begin working on when the door for the lab opens and Rachel enters.

"Hey" Quinn smiles as the brunette collapses down beside her, she hasn't seen the brunette in a few hours, and ever since Dr. Schue rushed Mr. Walker into emergency surgery. "How did Mr. Walker's surgery go? Did Dr. Schue find the problem?"

"Yeah, it was a clot along his spinal cord."

"So you were right." Quinn says, smiling at the brunette proudly. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Rachel looks slightly smug as she replies, "I think so."

"But you don't know that." Quinn replies, her brows furrowed.

"I know Dr. Schue stopped the paralysis from advancing any further." She shrugs.

"But you don't know if the paralysis he already has will be permanent." Quinn finishes for her.

"No." Rachel concedes.

"You know, you keep taking everything on faith. How do you know what's real and what's not?"

"You just do." Rachel replies easily, it's quiet between them a few moments, the brunette watching Quinn as she fills in some patient notes, "You know...some people would call this a relationship. The kind where you exchange keys, and leave your toothbrush over."

"Who?" Quinn asks, looking up to meet Rachel's eye, "Who would call it that?"

"Me. I would."

Quinn bites her bottom lip, rolling her chair forward so her face is inches from Rachel's, "And I'm supposed to believe you?" she asks, her eyes dipping down to the brunette's lips quickly.

"Uh-huh." Rachel smiles, looking pretty happy with herself, thinking she just charmed her way into Quinn's pants once again.

"Show me something." Quinn whispers, "Give me a reason to believe." They both watch each other closely, neither speaking for a few moments, nor making any kind of move to close the distance between their lips. Quinn waits with bated breath, just hoping Rachel will share something with her, anything at all. Instead the brunette's lips curl into the softest of smiles, dropping the lightest of kisses to Quinn's forehead, before she stands up and leaves Quinn alone in the research room once again.

* * *

Brittany doesn't want to admit it, because she doesn't want to like this guy. But she's worried about him. She's worried that he won't sign the surgery consent papers and something bad will happen him. That's not getting too involved is it? Wanting your patient to survive? She knocks lightly before entering Mr. Duff's room.

"I brought the consent forms again. You really need to sign them. Your surgeon scheduled the OR." She notices that he's paying her no attention, and is staring off into space, "Mr. Duff, are you all right? Are you having another seizure?"

"Yeah, yeah. I think maybe I am." Mr. Duff replies desponded.

"What is it?" she asks curiously, not that she believes in his visions or anything...really.

"It's me." He replies, finally turning to look at her, "I think it's about to be over."

"We know what we're doing, Mr. Duff. You saw the angio results. We're catching the AVM just in time. You don't need to be nervous. You're not gonna die" Brittany tells him with confidence, because it's all science, and science has never let her down.

"I'm not talking about dying. My whole life has been about what I see and about believing in myself, whatever people think. And you're telling me there's a very good chance that will go away."

"Look, you're a healthy guy. You're gonna live a long, full life. And if you're psychic visions are real, you've got to believe you'll have them when you come out" she tells him, and maybe, just maybe he has gotten under her skin, because nobody in Seattle could possibly know the things he's told her.

He looks at her intently for a few moments, his eyes flitting between Brittany and the papers in her hand, before finally giving in and signing them.

* * *

A little later the interns are camped out in the deserted hallway. Brittany's sitting on one gurney, reading over a textbook, with her trusty pink travel mug in hand. Santana's sprawled across one of the gurneys opposite, laying on her stomach as she writes up her patient notes. Facing Quinn who's almost half asleep, with Puck sitting in the floor between them, rating about how awesome he is for the heart surgery he got to scrub in on.

Sam comes wandering down to them, looking pretty chuffed with himself, he stops in the doorway and they all look up to face him, "This, uh, is Sam." He starts, smiling goofily and pointing to his name tag on his scrubs, "Sam has a hot date."

Quinn can't help but chuckle at how damn proud he is of himself. Plus he's a sweet guy he deserves it, "Oh! That's great, Sam."

"Yeah." He mumbles shyly. A light blush spreading over his cheeks.

"Left pocket of my lab coat, Sammie." Puck tells him as he stands up to leave, "No glove, no love"

Puck's almost walked past him before Sam, grabs hold of his arm and tugs him back, dipping his hand into his lab coat and taking a condom from it, slipping it into his own pocket, hoping the girls didn't just see that. Except they did. The three of them all share a look, and decide to cut Sam some slack and not tease him about it.

"So they psychic had his surgery." Brittany begins, graciously taking the attention from Sam, "I wonder what happened with his...gift."

"Come on. We all know he's crazy." Santana murmurs from her spot.

The use of the word 'gift' is what catches Quinn's attention though, "I thought you said you didn't believe in that stuff?"

Brittany opens her mouth to answer, closing it again quickly, looking between Santana, Quinn and Sam, seemingly gauging if she should open up to them or not. In the end she realizes they've all been good to her, so why shouldn't she? "I grew up in a trailer park. I waited tables, which was supposed to put me through college, but my mother was always calling these... psychics" She laughs humorlessly at the use of the word, "all the time. And the bills started piling up, so I had to use my money to pay them. When I turned 18, I left and never went back. But this guy has been saying things to me, things he couldn't possibly know anything about. So I just wonder." She finishes shrugging her shoulders.

* * *

Rachel's finishing up with her last patient check-up of the day. She's already told Quinn to wait for her at the hospital entrance because she has a surprise. Her last check-up is Mr. Walker, her patient who presented with creeping paralysis that was caused by a blood clot along his spinal cord.

"Do you have sensation anywhere else?" Rachel asks as she applies pressure against Mr. Walkers legs, his wife and two sons standing close by, watching closely.

"Some feeling in my stomach and feet, I guess." He tells her.

"Bladder and bowels?"

He shakes his head, "Not so good still."

"The nurse said the pressure stockings help relieve clots and bedsores?" Mrs. Walker asks, standing next to her husband's bedside.

"They do." Rachel reassures her gently. Smiling slightly as she watches one of his sons presses his hand against his father's arm, who in turn turns to smile at his son. Her attention is put back on Mr. Walker as he addresses her.

"I wanted to thank you for everything. Believing in me, that I wasn't making it up. For having faith in me." He tells the brunette sincerely.

She sends him a genuine smile,"Well, I'll come back tomorrow, then." She tells him and moves to leave him with his family.

"Hey, Dr. Berry." He calls after her, "I wanted to show you something. I wasn't sure it would last but now look." He gestures with his head, to where his arm is, and Rachel watches as he manages to wriggle his fingers slightly. "I know it's hardly anything, but..."

Rachel smiles brightly at him, "No, it's something. It's something really big."

_**At the end of the day, faith is a funny thing. **_

Brittany's offered to take Mr. Duff back to his room after his surgery. Their riding the elevator, his head is heavily bandaged, she watches as he begins to stir, when his eyes open and land on her Brittany sends him a small smile, "Mr. Duff, you're still with us."

He swallows heavily a few times, looking groggily up at Brittany, his voice rough, "For your recipe...one tablespoon of coconut extract."

She stares at him, while she runs through the recipe in her mind, quickly realizing that he's right, that's exactly the one ingredient she'd forgotten. She sends him a disbelieving smile, shaking her head in awe. Maybe she should start believing in psychics?

_**It turns up when you don't really expect it. **_

_**It's like, one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed.**_

Quinn does wait for Rachel, outside the hospital doors though, because she's been cooped up in there all day and wants some fresh air.

She doesn't have to wait too long before Rachel comes through the doors. She greets Quinn with a chaste kiss, and a smile, taking hold of her hand and leading the blonde towards her car.

"Where are we going?" Quinn questions. She's suspicious, Rachel may not divulge personal information, but she talks, all the time. Generally about nothing, so right now with the no talking, it's creeping Quinn out.

The brunette leans down and opens the passenger's door for Quinn, sending her a secretive smile, "Trust me." She whispers.

_**The castle… well, it may not be a castle. And, it's not so important that it's happy ever after. Just that it's happy right now.**_

Back at Quinn's house, Brittany pulls her most recent batch of chocolate cupcakes, with added coconut extract, from the oven. She sets them on the bench, inhaling the delicious scent before lifting one, taking a bite and throwing her head back, because yeah…that's the exact ingredient that was missing. Now her cupcakes taste as perfect as they use too.

While she finishes up her cupcake, she picks up the phone. Dialing a familiar number that she hasn't used in a long, long time. "Mom." She says into the receiver, as soon as there's an answer on the other line, "it's me. Cricket." She can't help but smile when she hears her moms surprised gasp, before straight away delving into conversation. "I'm good. I've been thinking about you a lot too."

_**See, once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you. **_

Rachel and Quinn drive mostly in silence, Quinn pipes in every now and again to enquire where the brunette's taking her. But Rachel just continues to send her that stupid secretive smile and refuses to answer. Finally Rachel brings the car to a stop. She hops out of car immediately, walking around it and helping Quinn out.

Quinn on her part is kind of dubious, because they're now in the middle of nowhere, well outside the city, surrounded by trees, and the fact that she's been worried about how little she knows about Rachel has been on her mind all day. Well you can imaging: practical stranger plus deserted woods equals, some really awful B-rated horror."Where are we?" Quinn questions for the tenth time, and really her patience is wearing thin by now.

"Shh. I'm going to tell you, alright?" Rachel replies, trying to stop the blonde from getting angry at her. She leads Quinn by the hand, down a rough track, rounding one last bush, until they come to a clearing. A clearing that's practically empty, except for the large silver trailer, with the wooden porch built outside of it. She watches Quinn out of the corner of her eye, gauging her reaction, the blonde furrows her brows turning to meet Rachel's eyes with confusing evident in her hazel eyes.

"So.." Rachel starts, moving around until she's stood between Quinn and the trailer, "You already know I'm an only child, my dads are called LeRoy and Hiram. My middle name is Barbra, after Barbra Streisand, who coincidently is my favorite singer." She smiles nervously at the blonde as she continues.

"My Birthdays December 18th. I like strawberry ice cream. Vegan of course. And I like Hazelnut Lattes. I cheat when I do the crossword puzzle on Sundays. Um, favorite novel? Wicked. Favorite movie? Funny Girl. My favorite color is gold. Although clearly I have a thing for hazel too." She adds as an afterthought, staring searchingly into her favorite hazel eyes.

"I also have a thing for stars. And metaphors. Because metaphors are important." She nods resolutely. "This scar right here on my forehead" She continues, bringing a hand up to hold her bangs out of the way so Quinn can see, "that's why I don't ride bicycles anymore. Um...on my days off? Well I spent my last one in bed with you." She blushes slightly at that, and notices a matching faint blush appear across Quinn's cheeks too. She licks her lips nervously, because this is the clincher, after finding this out Quinn will probably think she's a joke and end things with her, "And I...I live in that trailer." She points to it, and Quinn follows her finger, her face is guarded though and she isn't giving anything away.

"All this land belonged to my dad, he grew up in Seattle, and he signed it over to me when I decided to move here. I have _no_ idea what I'm going to do with it." She tells Quinn shaking her head, because yeah seriously, she has _no_ clue. "So yeah...that's it." She shrugs, "That's all you've earned for now. The rest, you're just...just going to have to take on faith."

Quinn stares at the brunette for a long few moments, completely in awe. She steps around Rachel, taking a few steps towards the trailer, looking at it more closely.

She can sense Rachel fidgeting behind her, she doesn't know that inside the brunette is freaking out, wondering if it was all too much, or if the blondes going to think she's a joke for living in a trailer. She's silently pleading with Quinn to say something.

But Quinn doesn't instead she turns back to Rachel, with the same soft smile on her face that Rachel woke up to this morning, the blonde holds out her hand for the brunette to take. Which she does, happily, with a sigh of relief.

They walk hand in hand towards the trailer. Reaching the door that Rachel's quick to open, holding it ajar to let Quinn enter first. The blonde keeps a hold of Rachel's hand as she crosses the threshold, turning to face the brunette and leaning in close, "You are so getting laid tonight, Berry." Quinn mumbles playfully in Rachel's ear.

_**And once in a while… people may even take your breath away.**_

* * *

_**So I literally only realized this week that Suzy Pepper, was played by Sarah Dew (April Kepner in Grey's!) So yeah. Suzy Pepper will be part of this story, but not quite as you remember her from Glee, I imagine her more like how April Kepner currently looks in Greys... does that even make sense?**_


	9. Who's Zoomin' Who?

**Thanks again for all the continued support, you are all wonderful :)**

* * *

_**Secrets can't hide in science. Medicine has a way of exposing the lies. Within the walls of the hospital, the truth is stripped bare.**_

This isn't right.

Sam's looked at his penis a lot. I mean not an unnatural amount or anything, but just generally he knows what his penis looks like. And right now. His penis doesn't look right.

The rash, for example, is new

He manages to get into the bathroom alone, and locks the door. Something he never usually has a chance to do. Living with Brittany tends to lower your inhibitions, considering she sees nothing wrong with just walking around in next to nothing constantly.

Considering his bedroom door doesn't have a lock, the bathroom is his best chance to have a closer look at his, rash undisturbed.

So he makes it into the bathroom alone, with his 'Rashes, Hives and Skin Eruptions' textbook. When he bought the textbook for med school, her never expected to actually have to use it to diagnose himself. He quickly strips off his clothes and sits of the edge of the bathtub, opening his textbook on his knee and comparing the pictures, in it to his um…penis.

And when he finds a picture that matches his rash to the tee, well it really, _really_ isn't good news for Sam. He kind of wants to cry.

_**How we keep our secrets outside the hospital… well, that's a little different.**_

He's seconds away from going into full panic mode, when the door handle begins to shake, as someone outside tries to get into the bathroom.

"Sam. You locked the door. I need to take a shower." Brittany's voice filters through.

"Uh...uh I'll be out in a minute!" Sam yells back.

The way his voice sounds shaky, kind of intrigues Brittany, as she innocently asks, "What are you doing in there?"

"It's private."

Realization dawns on Brittany's face, when she assumes to know what Sam's up "Oh. Oh, god! I'm sorry! I get it. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Sam's confused for a minute when he hears the humor in Brittany's tone, and then he realize what she must think he's up to, "No! It's not that!"

"It's okay. Take your time." She calls back, looking fairly relaxed about it as she grabs a magazine off the side dresser in the hallway.

Sam stands up, still naked, but with his textbook covering his private area, not that it matters with the locked door but still, "I am not doing what you think I'm doing!"

Brittany laughs to herself as she moves to the window and sits on the ledge to read through the magazine. "You know what, there's really no need to explain. I'll wait. You just...finish." she ends with a grimace.

"No, I'm...I'm coming." Both Sam and Brittany blanch at his choice of words, and he quickly tries to rectify himself, "I mean I'm coming out...of the bathroom!" only to hear the sound of Brittany's raucous laughter drift though the door.

_**One thing is certain. Whatever it is we're trying to hide, we're never ready for that moment when the truth gets naked.**_

Quinn's already up and ready to go, she's sitting in her chair, next to the window, watching Rachel as she sleeps. Well watching what she can see of Rachel, which is mostly just the smooth, tanned expanse of her back.

Her attention snaps to her cell phone when it begins to ring, she answers it quickly, hoping the noise hasn't woken Rachel.

As soon as the phone is answered, a female voice filters through the receiver. "Dr. Fabray, this is Ms. Henry from the nursing home. I'm calling about your mother."

That's never good; Quinn panics slightly, "Is she alright?"

"Oh, it's nothing like that." Ms. Henry is quick to reassure.

"Can I call you late, then?" Quinn asks, whispering, so she doesn't disturb Rachel. The last thing she wants to do is have to explain to Rachel about her mother. Part of her wants to tell Rachel, to share the burden of knowing, but another part of her doesn't want to complicate things between them. Sharing stuff about family is kind of what couples do, and they haven't exactly discussed what they _are_ exactly. Plus Rachel not knowing means that she can still have the brunette be a welcome distraction from it all.

"Uh, I just wanted to-" Quinn notices Rachel shift under the covers, and hurries to get off the phone before Rachel wakens.

"I have to go." She tells Ms. Henry quickly, hanging up before the woman has a chance to respond.

"Oh my god." Rachel mumbles as she rolls over to find Quinn, "Who is calling you at this hour?"

"It's a wrong number." Quinn lies easily; smiling at how adorably disheveled the brunette looks.

Rachel pushes herself up onto her elbows, tilting her head to the side as she takes in the blonde already dressed to go, "Why are you already dressed." She wines playfully.

Causing Quinn to chuckle lightly, "I wanted to miss out the rush for the shower."

"You showered without me?" Rachel pouts. "You suck." she adds throwing a pillow in Quinn's direction, and missing the blonde completely.

"Hey!" Quinn laughs, picking the pillow up from the floor as she makes her way back towards the bed, hitting Rachel's stomach with it when she's close enough. When Quinn's within reaching distance, Rachel takes a hold on her hand and pulls until she tumbles down on top of her, with a laugh.

Quinn presses the length of her body against Rachel's; they spend a few minutes trading kisses, until they hear a commotion from outside the door. "I'll go and investigate." Quinn mumbles against the brunette's lips, pushing herself off the bed and heading towards the door.

* * *

After pulling on his sweatpants again, Sam finally gathers the courage to leave the bathroom and face Brittany. When he walks thought the door into the hallway, his textbook hidden behind his back, Brittany is still there waiting on him with a huge grin on her face.

"There's no reason to be ashamed. It's normal Sam. Healthy even." Brittany tells him, leaning back on the door into Quinn's room.

"Well I'm not ashamed, because I wasn't doing anything. I don't have to. _I_ have a girlfriend."

Brittany's eyebrows rise, as she stage whispers, "An imaginary girlfriend?"

"An actual girlfriend." Sam replies tightly.

"You know what? It's no big deal. You don't have to lie. I get it. You have needs." She teases.

Just then Quinn swings her door open, the door Brittany had been leaning on, and Quinn has to quickly reach her arms out to stop Brittany from tumbling onto the floor. "What is going on out here?" she asks.

Brittany opens her mouth to respond, pointing towards Sam who beats her to it and replies, "Nothing." He states, turning to look at Brittany and pleading with his eyes for her to not say anything.

"Nothing." She eventually agrees. Seemingly satisfied Sam wanders back to his room, still trying to conceal the textbook from the girls.

When he's half way down the hall, Brittany leans over to Quinn to whisper, not so quietly, "He's freaked out cause I caught him playing with little jimmy and the twins."

"I have a girlfriend!" Sam shouts as he storms into his bedroom, slamming his door closed, leaving Quinn kind of grossed out and Brittany giggling happily.

"This sounds like fun out here." Rachel states as she comes out of Quinn's room, trying to fix her bed mussed hair, greeting Brittany with a smile.

"Oh, it is." Brittany replies quickly, before making a dash into the bathroom before Rachel gets a chance. Except Rachel didn't even notice her go since her phone started to ring. She glances at the screen, swallowing thickly when she reads the name, deciding quickly to ignore the call.

Quinn watches with a furrowed brow "Aren't you going to get that? It might be the hospital."

"It's not." Rachel tells her, quickly kissing the frown from the blonde's forehead, "Breakfast?"

_**That's the problem with secrets. Like misery, they love company. **_

_**They pile up and up until they take over everything.**_

_**Until you don't have room for anything else.**_

_**Until you're so full of secrets, you feel like you're going to burst.**_

After the interns have completed their rounds, Sam finally finds a minute to go and find, Suzy Pepper, The nurse he's been seeing. The red-haired one that Santana suggested he talk to. He finds her standing at one of the nurse's stations, and she smiles brightly at him as he approaches.

"So, um...I had a really good time the other night." She tells him shyly.

"Yeah, me too." Sam says with a smile, "Are you...uh feeling okay and everything?"

"I'm good. Great, now that I got to see you. Why?" Suzy asks.

"Oh. No reason. I'm going too, you know? Really good. You know." He tells her, stumbling a little as he continues, "But, um...a little itchy."

Brittany walks up and distracts the pair before Suzy even gets to respond.

"Hi Sam." Brittany greets happily. "Suzy."

"Hi, Dr. Pierce." She greets politely, turning her attention back to Sam. "I'll see you later?"

"Okay, bye." He gives her a dorky wave as she leaves, smiling and looking at Brittany. "Yeah. She's into me."

"Way to go, Sam." Brittany beams, holding her hand up for a high five, which he eagerly accepts, "She's cute." She adds, "So this morning, you really weren't..."

"Anything you want to apologize..."

"But then what were you doing in the bathroom for so long?"

He blanches at that question, "I have to go." He answers leaving a bemused Brittany behind.

He heads towards the intern locker room, because he's pretty sure that's where he'll find Puck. He knows Puck is probably the last person in the world he should trust with this, but he really doesn't want to go to one of the girls. Luckily his instinct was correct and he finds Puck standing in front of the mirror, fixing his Mohawk. He does a quick look around to check their alone, turning his attention back to Puck and trying hard to build up the confidence to bring up this subject with him.

Puck notices him standing awkwardly, "I know I'm hot to look at an all, Sam, but back up."

"I need to ask you something."

"I'm waiting." Puck tells him, as he turns to face Sam crossing his arms over his chest.

"I seem to be having this skin thing going on, like a rash, really. And I think I know what it is, but I can't get close enough to tell for sure." Sam manages to stumble out.

"Let's see it."

"It's kinda located in a…um…you know, private area." He explains gesturing vaguely at the private area in question.

"You're a doctor, Sam. It's called a penis. You have a rash on your penis?" Puck asks condescendingly.

"I think I can describe it. Um it's…red."

"Look, just come on. Just show me your junk so we can get this over with."

Sam sighs in defeat, taking another quick look around the locker room to ensure they're definitely alone, before slowly untying his scrubs. Pulling them out just enough so Puck can look.

Which he does, Puck ducks until he's face level with Sam's crotch and grimaces at the sight.

"So?" Sam prompts.

Puck straightens up, looking Sam straight in the eye, "Dude, you've got syphilis." He informs him, giving him a supportive slap on the shoulder as he passes to leave.

* * *

Quinn was pretty excited when Beiste told her they would both be scrubbing in with Chief Sylvester on one of her bowl resection surgeries. Mostly because it isn't often the Chief actually gets to perform surgeries, and when she does, most of the residents are picked ahead of interns to learn from her.

Sadly though when they open the patient up they discover he has more damage to his bowl that first thought, and instead of carrying out a resection, the Chief will instead have to remove most of his bowl.

She missed it the first time it happened because she kind of got distracted by Rachel entering the observation gallery, the brunette sends a wink Quinn's way, and the blonde almost smiles, until she sense Beiste sending a glare her way so she decides it's best she focuses on Chief Sylvester's work again. And when she does she notices how the chief can't seem to focus on the stitch, and misses it a few times. She blames it on the lights though, and Quinn is quick to reach up and readjusts the overhead light for Chief Sylvester. Her eyes flick up quickly to meet Beiste's who looks just about as confused as she is by what just happened.

The operation goes slightly smoother after that, for a little while at least. Up until Chief Sylvester requests a retractor from the nurse, which she drops when

The Chief quickly tells Dr. Beiste to take over and leaves the OR. Quinn looks up to find Rachel looking very confused by what just transpired.

* * *

Brittany and Santana meanwhile, have got a case to work on together. Which Santana's pretty alright with. She would never admit it out loud but she feels kind of protective over the blonde. Even though she's smart and Santana has no doubts she'll be a good surgeon, the blonde is kind of naive and Santana knows how cut throat interns can be (mostly because she is herself) so she always makes sure to look out for the blonde. Subtlety of course. She still has her own reputation to protect.

Their patient is Mr. Franklin, who was presenting with a swollen abdomen. Their first, basic examination indicated his abdomen may have a solid mass inside and reddish extensions along the surface of his abdomen which indicated an abnormal collection of blood vessels near the surface of the skin_. _Which meant that they could admit Mr. Franklin for further tests, and you know - hope that it leads to a really cool surgery.

* * *

After the confirmation from Puck, Sam decides that he's 95% certain he has…what he thinks he has. Though being a doctor he knows the important of confirming through tests, so after speaking with Puck he went straight to take a blood sample, from himself and handed it to the lab. He also put a rush on the results, so not even 2 hours later he walks back up to the reception area of the lab.

"Hi, uh, results for Sam Evans?"

"I don't see it here. What's the patient's name?" the lab tech asks.

"Evans, Sam." Sam repeats awkwardly. "Look, it's just a simple blood test." When the tech finally locates the results he passes them through the window to Sam, who mumbles a quick, "Thank you." Before quickly makes his way over to the opposite side of the corridor to read his results.

Just his luck though that as soon as he has his results in hand, Brittany would walk in. "Franklin, Jordan, I need this back ASAP." She tells the lab tech as she hands over her patients samples.

"What a shocker." The tech deadpans.

She turns to Sam, "Hey, what did you get? Something good?" she asks half excited, half jealous. She grabs the results from his hands and reads over them. "Syphilis? That's not surgical. Who has syphilis?" She asks confused.

Her eyes widen as they read over the name on the results, leaving Sam no choice but to quickly grab hold of her upper arm, and drag her into an empty room, closing the door just as Brittany exclaims…

"You have syphilis!?"

"Shh!" He urges her, moving quickly to make sure the door is closed, and all the blinds are pulled down so they can have some privacy. "I don't know how this happened."

"Of course you do. God, Suzy must really be getting around."

"Suzy, she's not like that." Sam defends.

"It's a new decade, Sam. The only people who aren't like that are the Amish and, apparently, you."

"You don't know." He argues back, slight offended. "Maybe _I've_ been sleeping around. Maybe _I_ got ladies." Brittany sends him a disbelieving look and he deflates immediately, "Shut up. What am I gonna do?"

"It's no biggie. Couple doses of Penicillin will knock it out." Brittany reassures him.

"What am I gonna do about Suzy?" he reiterates.

"Well, for starters…stop sleeping with her, unless you want that thing to fall off." She tells him with a laugh, gesturing down towards '_that thing'_.

"Okay, that is twice you have trash-talked the girl that I could one day potentially…well, not love but like a whole lot."

"If she gave it to you, you have to tell her."

"Three." He tells her sounding more annoyed.

"Fine! She didn't give it to you. She was a virgin when you met. You still have to tell her so she can get tested."

"Oh, yeah? How am I gonna tell her? 'uh, hey Suzy, how you doing? By the way, I got the Syph. How about you?'"

"Well, maybe not quite like that."

"No, it's good advice, really good advice. Thank you Britt, thank you very much." He tells her tightly, before storming out of the room, leaving a highly amused Brittany behind.

Sam really isn't having and luck today. He storms away from Brittany's teasing, only to run straight into Puck. "I gotta say, Lady Lips. I didn't think you had it in you. It's always the quiet ones. So who's the woman?"

"None of your business."

"Oh, come on. Who gave you the cooties on the playground Biebster?"

"You must have has something like this before, right?"

"I _never _talk about my penis with another man."

"I don't either." Sam replies quickly, "Normally."

* * *

After Brittany collects Mr. Franklin's results from the lab and showing them to Santana they both head back to their patients room to explain what exactly is wrong with him.

"Mr. Franklin? You have a condition known as ascites." Santana tells him straightforwardly.

"Oh, my god. I knew it was terrible." His wife gasps.

Brittany's quick to jump in to reassure, and to put Santana's words into, you know, normal people terms, "It just means there's fluid in the peritoneal cavity. The abdomen. And the swelling is pressing against your lungs. Which is why you're having trouble breathing."

"In your case, it looks like a symptom of liver disease." Santana adds.

"And it all comes together." Alice, his daughter, states bitterly.

Mrs. Franklin, "Alice, not now."

"Is there something we should know?" Santana asks.

Mr. Franklin shrugs his shoulders, "I drink a bit."

"That's the understatement of the year." Alice replies with an eye roll.

"That's enough out of you." Mr. Franklin warns his daughter

"Hey! I'm only here for Mom, to make sure you don't pull any of your usual crap"

Considering how awkward things get, after questioning Mr. Franklin further about his drinking habits, they high-tail it out of the tense atmosphere as quickly as possible. Going straight to find Beiste to update her on the case.

"Um, according to his daughter, Mr. Franklin is a heavy drinker." Brittany informs Beiste, as soon as they track her down.

"Six to eight drinks a day, an alcoholic by any standard." Santana supplies.

"Protocol?" Beiste asks.

Santana replies immediately, "Schedule a paracentesis."

She turns to Brittany, "Reason?"

"Uh, draining the fluid will relieve the pressure from the lungs."

"Good. But don't schedule it. Do it."

"You want us to do the procedure?" Brittany asks with wide excited eyes.

"You've seen one, right?" She asks the pair, it's Santana who nods her head eagerly. "Well, now do one." She tells them before walking off.

"I've never seen one." Brittany whispers to Santana, after Beiste has left.

Santana's smile widens, and Brittany's excitement seems to be contagious, "You're about to."

"Yes!" The blonde exclaims, with a fist pump.

* * *

So telling Suzy did not go as Sam had planned. He had decided that the next time he saw her today; he would just come straight out and tell her about the Syphilis. So when he bumped into her on the stairway, it felt like the perfect time.

"About time I got you alone today." Suzy greets him, pulling him in straight away for a kiss.

"Suzy…" Sam just about manages to mumble against her lips, subtly pushing her off.

"What time is your shift over? Because mine's over at 8, and I thought maybe you could come over."

"Suzy. I need to tell you something."

"What's wrong? Are you breaking up with me?"

"What? No. oh, no. Really, no." he reassures her straight away. "It's just…okay you're the only person that I've been with in like…a long time. I mean, not unusually long of anything, you know? Just a normal amount of long time. But it wouldn't matter to me if you've been with someone else. Maybe you have?" He ventures lightly, "I'm not accusing you or anything, or you know, judging you or handing out Scarlett letters or anything, you know? It's…you're a woman. A very attractive woman." He adds, causing them both to blush slightly. "Of course you've been with other men. Not that you've been with a lot of men, it's not like you're a prostitute…" he tries to joke.

"A prostitute?" She asks angrily.

"No! Not a…Not a prostitute. What?... no the opposite of a prostitute, a lady. You're very ladylike. I mean you've very bendy, but…"

"Sam…breathe."

Which he does, he takes a deep breath, expelling it harshly. "Okay. It's just…okay here's the thing. I _really_ like you, Suzy. I like you a lot."

She smiles and blushes harder, looking down bashfully, "Well, I like you too." She tells him, moving closer to him and kissing him again.

Deciding to get right to the point, Sam pulls away slowly and…he just blurts it out. "I have syphilis."

Suzy just stares at him, shocked and slightly confused for a long moment, before spinning around and running off without saying anything.

"Well…that could have gone better." Sam mumbles to himself.

* * *

So it turns out, the reason the Chief struggled in surgery so much earlier is because she has a tumor. It's only little, but it's pressing right against her optic never, affecting her sight, hence her being unable to focus enough this morning. Dr. Schue is going to operate on it, he's confident he can remove it without any trouble, but it's surgery - _brain _surgery and it still has risks. The main one being Chief Sylvester could lose her sight. It's top secret. And Rachel gets to be in charge of organizing the surgical team. Sufficient to say she's very excited. Dr. Schuester told her, she could bring in one other surgical intern. But only someone she trusts to keep it a secret. So she goes to find the first person she can think of. Kurt. She figures, since they both share a resident, they're basically on each other's team.

"Hey, you free later by any chance?"

"Sadly not" he tells her with a sigh, "I have to monitor my patient, 'every hour, on the hour, or else'. Seriously, I think Tanaka hates me."

Rachel smiles sympathetically, because really she's pretty sure Tanaka hates everyone. Except Emma, he always seems to have a smile for her. "Dammit, okay. I guess I can find someone else."

He eyes her suspiciously for a beat, "What exactly are you up to Dr. Berry?"

"I...can't tell. I'm sorry. It's a special super secret surgery. No one can know."

"That sounds..." The sound of a phone ringing interrupts Kurt's sentence, he raises his eyebrows at Rachel, prompting her to do something about the incessant noise so he can finish his sentence.

She fishes her phone out of her lab coat pocket quickly, checking the name, and again swallowing heavily when she reads it. She presses ignore swiftly.

Kurt watches on in silence, and when Rachel looks up at him again with a very obviously fake smile, he can't help but pry, "You could have answered it you know. I wouldn't have minded if it was important."

"It wasn't." She dismisses him quickly, "It's not, important."

He nods his head, not quite believing her, "Why don't you ask Quinn to help with your creepy secret surgery? That way you get to spend more time with her at work, and if it is actually something important, you'll earn brownie points for getting her in on it."

"That's...actually a great idea, thanks Kurt." She flashes him a genuine smile this time.

"Well of course it is I came up with it. Anyway, spill. Have you heard about Sam Evans and his unfortunate case of syph?"

Rachel pauses and blinks, slowly. That was defiantly _not_ what she was expecting to hear next, "No actually I haven't. Are you sure it's Sam Evans? Like Quinn's roommate Sam? Tall, naturally blonde, awkward and bumbling Sam Evans?"

"Okay firstly, yes I'm positive it's _that_ Sam Evans. And secondly, he is not a natural blonde."

"I'm pretty sure he is. I mean what kind of intern has time to dye their hair?"

"Rachel, sweetie. I have three gifts. My surgery skills. My ability to spot trends in men's fashion and my ability to know when it comes from a bottle."

"This conversation has not gone in any way how I expected." Rachel admits.

* * *

Sam and Puck have been working under Dr. Martinez all day on one of his best friends, so yeah; they've been worked pretty hard. When they finally have some time to grab lunch, they enter the cafeteria together and while heading towards their table, where Brittany and Santana are already waiting they also pass by Suzy's table, where all of the nurses turn to stare at Sam as he passes.

"Do you think she's talking about me?" Sam whispers to Puck.

"She's absolutely talking about you. Dude, that's a good thing."

"How? How is that a good thing?"

"Sammie, Get a clue. Syphilis is the best thing that ever happened to you. In their eyes, you're a player." He explains to Sam full of bravado.

Puck pulls a seat out next to Santana, whose forehead is currently being felt by Brittany. She bats the blondes hand away as Sam sits opposite.

"Hey, Syph-boy." Santana greets him, pleasantly as always.

"You told her?" Sam fumes towards Brittany.

Who just shrugs, "Its Santana."

Puck's still laughing from Santana's greeting, "Syph-boy. I like it. It's got a nice ring to it. It's kinda like Superboy, only diseased." He holds his hand up to fist bump Santana, but she just gives him a disgusted look and ignores him, and turns to Sam to defend Brittany.

"Brittany didn't have to say a word. Around here, the only thing that spreads faster than disease is gossip."

"That's not true. Just cause Brittany can't keep her mouth shut doesn't mean everyone knows." He pales when Santana turns to him with some pretty murderous eyes; she opens her mouth to deliver some scathing insult, but thankfully for Sam, Quinn arrives at the table just at that moment, taking the seat next to Sam.

"Hey, Sam. How are you feeling?" he perks up greatly, because Quinn's actually taking an interest in him, and so maybe he isn't over that crush yet. But then it all comes crashing down when she continues sympathetically, "Sorry about the syphilis."

That puts the smuggest of all smiles on Santana's face, because she realizes nothing she would have said would have annoyed Sam half as much, as Quinn knowing about his Syphilis.

"Everyone in this hospital knows?" Sam mutters despondently.

"Knows you're a player." Puck states proudly.

"You're disturbed." Sam deadpans.

"True. Everybody's got a secret. Just be glad yours is out in the open."

"Oh yeah, Evil spawn? What's yours?" Santana goads.

"You show me yours, and I'll show you mine." He leers in reply. Santana looks slightly uncomfortable; her eyes flick up and track Dr. Martinez as he passes by. "I bet you've got some seriously kinky skeletons in your closet." Puck continues.

"What's in my closet is none of your business." She snaps at him.

"Well, I don't have any secrets. My life is boring." Brittany adds.

"Everybody's got something to hide." Quinn states sullenly from the end of the table, causing everyone to turn and stare at her with raised eyebrows.

* * *

Puck ever so graciously offers to give Sam his shots of penicillin. It worries him slightly that, it took him contracting syphilis to gain Pucks respect. It really says a lot about Puck. They head into one of the private exam rooms, and Sam watches nervously from the bed as Puck preps the shots.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Sam asks nervously.

"It's a shot of penicillin, Sam. Be grateful I'm even doing this. I've already seen more of you than I ever wanted to." He gesture to Sam to get ready for the shot, which he does, standing up and beginning to undo his scrub pants. "I'll be fighting nightmares for a week." Puck mumbles

Sam was just about has his pants pulled down, but after Puck's last comment he pulls them up again, "Okay, you know what? Forget this."

"Do you want to get rid of the syph or not?" Puck yells sternly, "Just shut up and drop 'em."

Sam sighs in defeat, as he pulls down his pants and bends over the gurney, because it really is the only way, and at least it's just Puck, and not one of the other girls. "I cannot believe this." Sam mumbles, he's pretty sure his life could not get any worse than this moment. And then Quinn enters, "Quinn! Go away!" he shouts trying to close the curtains around the bed again.

"Oh, Sam." Quinn placates as she moves around the bed to stand next to Puck, "Thought you could use some moral support."

"NO!" He yells, reaching his arm around and unsuccessfully trying to block Quinn's view of his exposed behind, "No, moral support. I'm indisposed here."

"Sam, it's no big deal." Quinn replies, swatting his hand away from her face "Aww, hey you have a cute butt." she coos.

"I have a cute butt too. Wanna see?" Puck asks the blonde, wriggling his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, get out. You're doing it wrong." Quinn replies slapping his arm and taking the needle from his hand.

"Be my guest." Puck sighs, just happy to not have to look at Sam's butt anymore.

"What…? Puck? Puck, what?" Sam calls after him as Puck opens the curtains and walks out.

Sam stretches forward, rushing to close them again, just as he finally has them completely closed, Brittany appears flinging them wide open again, with a chocolate cupcake in hand.

"What are we doing here?" Brittany asks, wide eyed and excited as always, making her way around the bed next to Quinn, who's using a sterilizing strip where she plans to inject him.

"Breaking Sam's spirit." Sam mutters glumly, as he closes the curtains yet again.

Quinn amends his statement as she gives Sam his first dose of penicillin. "Curing Sam's Syph."

"I don't like needles." He complains.

"Good thing you became a doctor." Quinn deadpans. "Other side."

Just as she lifts up the next needle to give Sam his second does, Santana's voice filters in through the door. "Brittany!?"

"Yeah?" Brittany replies around a mouthful of cupcake.

"Uh, Mr. Franklin's procedure's been scheduled for after lunch…" She stops abruptly as she pulls the curtains apart and sees Sam bent over a gurney with Brittany and Quinn standing behind him. "Oh, what are we doing?"

"We are saving Sam from a future of festering sores and insanity." Brittany informs her, as Santana maneuvers around the gurney to join Brittany and Quinn behind Sam.

"Oh, cute butt." She comments.

"Told ya." Quinn replies happily, as she gives him his second dose.

"It is cute, like a baby's." Brittany adds, the other two girls nodding in agreement.

"You know" Sam begins, slamming his hands down against the gurney, before straightening up and retying his scrubs "I have spent hours, days, years-even imagining myself half-naked in a room with three women. The reality is so much better." He fumes sarcastically, as he runs out of the room, leaving the three girls behind him giggling.

"I think he's gonna cry." Santana manages to get out once she's caught her breath.

* * *

After helping to cure Sam's Syph, they all head their separate ways to actually do some, surgical intern work. Quinn mostly just has post-op patients to check on, so she's actually excited for a split second when her pager goes off. Until she reads it that is.

Quinn enters one of the conference rooms, where everyone on the surgical floor has been paged too. A room full of Doctors and Inters and nurses. She spots Santana almost immediately and makes her way to sit next to her on the windowsill. She's pretty much the last to enter, besides Puck who ambles in a few moments later; she does a quick scan around the room, but is unable to spot Rachel. Although she finds Kurt and sends a small wave his way, before being interrupted by Chief Sylvester.

The Chief calls for everyone's attention, stood at the front of the room with her arms folded across her chest, looking every bit as terrifying as she seems, with her secretary Emma sitting behind the desk next to her, with her arms primly folded and resting on it.

"Three interns, four residents and six nurses on this surgical floor have been diagnosed with...syphilis." The chief begins, while the room breaks out into a low murmur, and Sam squirms in his seat, and avoids eye contact with Suzy at all costs.

"There are over 70,000 new cases every year." Emma begins, blushing profusely "Undiagnosed, syphilis can lead to blindness, insanity and death"

Chief Sylvester looks over the top of her glasses and glares at everyone in the room in turn, "If you are having unprotected sex with another member of the staff, get tested. This is not a request." She pauses and rolls her eyes as the laughter starts in the room, knowing it's about to get worse. "Emma, will now give you a safe-sex demonstration." And right on cue, the laugher in the room grows louder.

Emma stands up, fixing the imaginary creases from her skirt, slipping on a pair of disposable gloves before lifting a banana from the desk in front of her. She clears her throat nervously, "When the time is right, and, gentlemen, you'll um...know when the time is, carefully open the condom packet and roll it onto the banana." She picks up the condom packet from the desk, opening it neatly, and demonstrating exactly how to roll the condom, even though her hands are shaking. "Open communication is essential to a healthy relationship. In a responsible relationship..."

It's at this point Quinn zones out, leaning over to Santana next to her to whisper, "Poor Sam."

"Yeah. You know, I think he really likes Typhoid Mary."

"Well, not many budding relationships survive a good dose of VD."

Santana goes surprisingly quiet, before answering, "True."

They both tune back into Emma, "When the banana is finished, gently peel off the condom and...uh...dispose of it properly. With every fresh banana always use a fresh condom. I have some pamphlets for each of you, with illustrations so, if you need a guide, when um...The time comes it will be available."

* * *

Not long after the humiliating safe sex talk from Emma; who genuinely looked like she was about to pass out in the middle of the demonstration, Quinn gets a page from Rachel asking her to meet the brunette. While she's on her way to meet Rachel her phone rings again, she answers it without checking the name.

"Hi. It's Ms. Henry again. Is this a better time?"

"Sorry about this morning. I wasn't alone and...What were you calling about?"

"I just wanted to remind you that tonight's our monthly family dinner. You know, you haven't been to any of our family functions."

Quinn reaches a hand up and runs it through her hair, "You have to understand. I'm a surgical intern, so my time isn't my own."

"Our residents really respond to these events. They always enjoy themselves which is so rare. I think it's important you attend."

She feels like shit. She really does. She knows she hasn't been spending as much time with her mother as she should be. But it's just so hard, and depressing. Every time she does visit her mother, she has no idea who Quinn is, which just makes Quinn feel even worse, so she tends to bury her head in the sand and just…not think about it. Quinn can't really be blamed for that. It was her mother who taught her to compartmentalize, it's the Fabray way. Have a problem? Just ignore it until it goes away. Which…yeah is a horrible way to think about your mother. She sighs in defeat as she reaches the door to the supply closet Rachel told her to be. "I'll be there." Except she knows that isn't true and feels bad for outright lying to the woman so she amends her statement, "I'll _try_ to be there. I'll definitely try."

She hangs up before Ms. Henry can respond. She knows the woman doesn't understand, or like how she's dealing with things…but whatever, Quinn's doing her best. The blonde takes a deep, steadying breath before pushing open the door to the supply room. She knows Rachel will already be there. She's never late.

"You paged?" Quinn asks as she enters the room. Arching an eyebrow in surprise as she finds Rachel perched on a box filling out patient charts.

The brunette smiles sheepishly as she closes over the files, "I did indeed." She confirms standing up to greet Quinn properly with a kiss.

Quinn can't help but smile into the kiss, it's short and chaste, but its Rachel's lips and they always taste delicious. "You know…If you just paged me for a booty call, you're going to be left bitterly disappointed. Especially after _I _had to sit through a safe sex demonstration that you were noticeably absent from."

Rachel chuckles slightly, "Well as you can see I've been swamped filling in patient charts. Besides if someone had stayed in bed with me this morning instead of getting up early then I wouldn't need to make a booty call." She teases gripping the collar of Quinn's lab coat and pulling her in for another, longer kiss.

"You're insatiable." The blonde mumbles against her lips, even as she grips Rachel's hips and pulls her closer, tilting her head to the side when Rachel begins to kiss down her neck.

"You say that like you don't reap the benefits of it, often."

She moans and squeezes Rachel's hips tighter, holding on to just enough sense to be able to ask Rachel. "Is this seriously why you paged me? Because I mean it. I'm not having sex with you while I'm working. Its unprofessional, and I am _all_ about being professional."

Rachel pulls back, shaking her head, because no. this isn't why she paged Quinn, "I'm sorry. You're just so…distracting."

She says it so sweetly that Quinn's eyes soften instantly and she leans forward for one last kiss. "What can I do for you Dr. Berry?"

"Dr. _Fabray_" Rachel mocks "I was wondering if you could help me with something. I asked Kurt, but he's all ready tied up with a case…can you keep a secret?"

Quinn turns somber, thinking of how well she's kept her mother a secret, and mutters a solemn, "Better than you think."

"The chief has a tumor." Quinn's eyes widen dramatically and Rachel's quick to reassure her "It's operable. Schue's going to operate on her tonight to remove it. He left me in charge of getting together an incognito surgical team, you in?"

"Well obviously, yes, I'm in. Sucks for the chief though. I mean a tumor and a syphilis outbreak all in one day."

"Well, I'm pretty sure they're both unrelated…" Rachel says dryly, laughing a second later when she earns herself an eye roll from the blonde, before turning serious "I do need one last favor from you though. I need you to ask Beiste if she'll help out. She's Dr. Schue's favorite resident, and well…"

"She hates you and you're too scared to face her?" Quinn finishes for her with an arched eyebrow.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Fine, you wimp. I'll talk to the Nazi for you."

"You know…I could make some point about her being called the Nazi and me being Jewish." She scrunches her nose up in a way that Quinn finds utterly adorable, "But that would be inappropriate."

"Yeah." Quinn agrees "Plus you know, Puck's Jewish and he has no trouble talking to Beiste. Actually she pretty much hates him too, so really you _are _just a wimp."

"Ouch. You're really not so good for my ego."

Quinn scoffs, "The size of your ego? I think it can take a knock or two and still be larger than most." She tries to keep a neutral expression, she really does, but when Rachel's mouth drops open in shock, Quinn loses it and bursts out laughing, with Rachel following behind not too long after.

"Wow. You are really out to get me today. And to think, I went to all that effort to get you onboard with the super secret surgery." Rachel states dramatically.

Quinn narrows her eyes at the brunette, "You asked Kurt first!" she points out.

"Oh please, like you wouldn't have gone to Santana first had you been in my shoes."

Quinn purses her lips, because, yeah she totally would have. She really hates Rachel winning though, so she does the only thing she can think off. She distracts Rachel from the argument by kissing her senseless. For a good 15 minutes.

* * *

Brittany and Santana are _very _excited. They're just about to start Mr. Franklin's paracentesis, having already anesthetized the area Santana inserts the needle, to drain the fluid into Mr. Franklin's abdomen. "Okay. I'm in the peritoneal cavitiy."

The both watch as the excess fluid begins to drain, however instead of being clear, or milky fluid like they were expecting it came out with a red tinge, it's Brittany who notices first, "That fluid is bloody. Is it supposed to be bloody?"

Mr. Franklin furrows his brows, "You've done this before, right?"

"Of course. Millions of times." Santana lies.

Brittany focuses her attention on trying to relax Mr. Franklin, and calm his nerves, "You're doing great, Mr. Franklin."

While Brittany distracts Mr. Franklin, Santana does her best to subtly check over everything they've done, making sure the needle is in the correct area. "Okay, so…now all we have to do is wait."

So they wait. And wait.

Half an hour later there's still fluid draining from Mr. Franklin's abdomen. He's already filled one drainage bag, and is half way through a second one.

The excitement of performing the procedure has finally wore off for Santana and now she's bored, "How much fluid can one body hold?"

"Shh! There's a lot of fluid in there, Mr. Franklin. But we're almost finished." Brittany reassures him, looking up at him when he doesn't respond, she notices his closed eyes. "Mr. Franklin? Are you sleeping?" she puts a hand on his shoulder shaking him gently to waken him, "Mr. Franklin?" she asks again, and when again she receives no response she moves her hand to his neck, "He has no pulse." She tells Santana, sounding panicked.

"What?"

"He has no pulse!" She yells again. They both stare at each other for a beat in shock, before simultaneously jumping into action. Santana hits the code button, while Brittany begins CPR.

Sadly they can't revive Mr. Franklin and it's left up to Santana to call it. Confirming his time of death after they stop with the CPR. Leaving she and Brittany are left in a state of shock at losing their patient so out of the blue, and waiting by the nurses' station for Dr. Beiste to get back to them, after she went to inform the family.

"How could he just die like that with no warning?" Santana ponders pacing back and forth in front of the desk.

"There was blood in the tube when it first went in. what if it's our fault? What if we did something wrong?"

"We didn't do anything wrong. We did a textbook procedure."

Beiste approaches them, with Mr. Franklin's chart in hand. "I read the chart. You did everything by the book."

Brittany breaths out heavily through her nose in frustration, "He died on our watch. We must have missed something."

"You couldn't have known. There was no history of heart problems. His death wasn't your fault." Beiste reassures them, in a much softer tone than either are used to hearing from her.

Santana knew it wasn't their fault; she followed the procedure to the letter. But she just wants answers, "When's the autopsy? We have to find out the cause of death." she asks Beiste.

"There won't be an autopsy. The family decided they didn't want one. Cause of death will go down as cardiopulmonary arrest complicated by liver disease."

That really isn't good enough for Santana, "But, Dr. Beiste -"

She interrupts Santana abruptly. "There don't want an autopsy. Let it go."

They can't let it go though. Having a patient just die on them, out of nowhere without any real answers is just not acceptable for 2 people whose whole education up until now has been defined by science, and solid answers.

Santana convinces Brittany that they should go and speak with Mr. Franklin's wife and daughter and try to change their minds. Mrs. Franklin actually seemed to be leaning towards giving them permission for an autopsy, but then her daughter cut in and told them in no uncertain terms that they both just wanted it over with. Reaffirming to the two doctors that she blames her father's alcohol problem on him dying, that this isn't sudden for her because he's been killing himself for years by drinking. Brittany and Santana leave them alone, still no further in getting answers for Mr. Franklin's sudden death.

* * *

Quinn's in the middle of asking Dr. Beiste to help out with the Chief's surgery, when Rachel comes running up the stairs and stops next to them. "How goes out special super secret silent sunset, surgery?" she turns to Quinn looking awfully proud of herself, "I've been practicing that."

"You have too much time on your hands." Beiste glares at her, turning to Quinn, "You can tell the chief I'll be there. Just let me know when and where. I'm in."

"Okay." Quinn tells her, before Beiste leaves. Smiling at Rachel, "You're a dork."

"Maybe, but I'm cute and smart, so I get my fair share." The brunette adds with a shrug.

"Well look at that, your ego clearly survived earlier." She laughs when Rachel just responds by sticking out her tongue at the blonde. "Um…just for the record…"

"Yeah?"

"…you'd tell me if I need to get tested, right?"

Rachel's jaw drops. "You think I have Syphilis?"

"No, I don't." Quinn reassures her quickly, resting her hand on the brunette's forearm. "It's just…we never made any rules or anything. I mean, we never said, '_we have rules'_, and I wouldn't hold it against you."

"When would I have time to go out and get Syphilis? You're a handful enough as it is." She teases Quinn, poking her stomach playfully. "Besides, who even says the phrase, 'we have rules'? Nobody says that."

"I just mean that…we never _actually_ said we we're you know…exclusive or anything."

"Have you been, with other people?" and even as Rachel asks it, her stomach twists unpleasantly just at the thought.

"No, no I haven't. Like you said when would I even get the time?"

Rachel lets go of the breath she was holding when Quinn answers. "Okay, so nothing to worry about." She pauses, biting her bottom lip nervously, "Maybe we should, you know make some rules I mean…"

Quinn's lips pull into a smirk and her eyebrow quirks almost automatically, "Dr. Berry are you asking me to be exclusive?"

"I…" She's about to it deny it, scared that Quinn will freak out, or worse – reject her. But still…its _Quinn_ and even the mere thought of being able to call Quinn her girlfriend is…"Yes."

"Okay." The blonde replies simply. Rachel doesn't need to know about the butterflies currently making themselves known in Quinn's stomach.

"Okay?" Rachel beams.

"Okay. So we're exclusive, whatever. It's no big deal or anything." She rolls her eyes, and turns to leave.

"Hey Quinn" Rachel calls after her, when Quinn turns round too look at her the brunette has a smug smile on her face, with her hands in her lab coat pockets, as she walks backwards, "We have rules." She smiles brightly.

Quinn shakes her head fondly at the brunette, mouthing "Dork" towards her as she spins on her heels and goes back to work. Rachel watches as she goes, smiling happily that she can now call Quinn Fabray her girlfriend. Her phone ringing again interrupts her leering at the blonde, she pulls in from her pocket and her smile drops instantly, she stares at the name on the phone looking concerned but again refuses to answer it.

* * *

"You guys want to perform an unauthorized autopsy?" Quinn asks again, just to confirm she did in fact hear correct. She's sitting on a gurney next to Brittany ad Santana, reading some journal articles about removing tumors similar to the chiefs.

"I know you, Santana. You do not want to be known as the new 007. An autopsy clears your name." Brittany pleads with her, playing to Santana's ego to get her onside.

"Santana, no!" Quinn warns when she see's that Santana's actually considering this.

"What about Franklin's wife? You saw the way she was looking at me. She wants the autopsy. She just didn't want to fight with her daughter. She looked so sad, Santana. Like a sad panda." Brittany trails of glumly, "But okay, Santana Lopez, license to kill."

"Okay, I'm in." Santana agrees quickly, because Brittany really has mastered the art of puppy dog eyes, and Santana _really_ doesn't want to be known as 007-2.0.

"I am so not involved in this."

Santana pins her with a pretty intense glare, "Quinn, this is Fight Club. Nobody talks about it."

"Fine." Quinn relents; she'll keep their secret, as crazy as it is.

"We have to do it when Beiste isn't around." Santana warns.

"Beiste's always around." Brittany exclaims, "She's everywhere and knows everything."

"Well, we have to take our chances." The brunette shrugs.

"Beiste's got something tonight from 7 to 11. You two will be the last thing she's worried about." Quinn informs them helpfully. I mean yeah what they're planning is pretty ridiculous, but she knows how damn hard it is to say no to Brittany when she has her mind set on something.

"How do you know that?" Santana asks suspiciously the same time as Brittany leans forward to ask excitedly, "What kind of something?"

Quinn stares at them both, wanting to tell them, but she promised Rachel so…"Oh, I can't tell you that. It's Fight Club too." She flashes them both an innocent smile, before shuffling off the gurney and going back to work.

Santana watches her go, wondering what it is Quinn knows that she doesn't, turning back to Brittany, she narrows her eyes, "If I'm missing out on a real patient because of this, they're gonna call me 007 because I've killed _you_."

* * *

As soon as the clock hits 7pm Brittany and Santana have Mr. Franklin's body, in the basement in one of the autopsy rooms. They're both already dressed in their surgical gowns and scrub caps, along with protective glasses.

"We stole a body. We're like, body snatchers. What I somebody from the morgue comes looking for Mr. Franklin?" Brittany wonders, beginning to panic as the realization of what it is they're about to do hits her.

Santana's quick to calm her down, "Hey, it's the middle of the night, nobody will come in. Plus, thing about being dead? People stop looking for you."

"Okay." Brittany clears her throat, picking up a scalpel ready to begin. Except she has to pause and try and recall what the first step of an autopsy is.

Santana lets her think for a second, before losing patience, "When's the last time you did an autopsy?"

"I took gross anatomy, just like you. I'm just trying to remember."

"You know, hold on. Hold on. Wait." Santana goes over to the side of the room where she left her stuff and lifts a textbook, taking it with her back to Mr. Franklin's body.

"You brought a textbook?" Brittany asks disbelievingly.

"Uh, if I'm doing an autopsy, I'm doing the _best_ damn autopsy there's ever been."

Brittany shakes her head fondly at the brunette who is busy flicking through the pages of the textbook, trying to find the correct page, "Okay."

"Okay, got it." Santana states, when she finds the correct page with lots of illustrations explain where to cut. She studies the book for a second, passing it over to Brittany and lifting a scalpel.

"You sure?" Brittany asks.

"It's not like we can kill him twice." Santana deadpans, placing the scalpel against Mr. Franklin's chest, just below his shoulder.

"Wait!" Brittany exclaims, causing Santana to freeze and look over at the blonde, "Let me cut?"

Santana's on the verge of saying no, but then she looks up at meets Brittany's pleading gaze and she just can't find it within her to say no to the blonde. So reluctantly she nods her head and allows Brittany to cut first.

"You should really be using the ten-blade." Santana teases lightly.

"Stop backseat cutting will you?" Brittany retorts, "Go get the saw."

* * *

After Dr. Scheuster has finished up with the Chief's surgery, he allows Dr. Beiste to finish up for him, since he has another surgery to get to. Rachel and Quinn stay behind helping to unhook the machines as Beiste wraps a bandage around Chief Sylvester's head.

Quinn looks over at Rachel, asking in a low voice, "Do you think the optic never is damaged?"

"If it is, when she wakes up, she will-"

"Be blind?" Quinn cuts her off, "For how long?"

"Forever. " Dr. Beiste cuts into the conversation, "Fabray, page Lopez and Pierce. Tell them I want them covering your patients. I want you to stay and monitor the Chief."

"Santana and Brittany, um…I think they're already swamped." Both Beiste and Rachel turn to look at her curiously.

"With what?" Beiste asks sharply.

"Um...labs." Quinn answer's eventually, "They had to check on some…labs."

"Oh, you are lying. I know you're lying. You know how I know?" Quinn shakes her head slightly, kind of afraid to move incase…you know, Beiste kills her or something. "Cause you're a bad liar! I hate a bad liar." She stops abruptly, a look or realization crossing her face. "You two" she motions to include Rachel, "you both finish up here. I know exactly where they are."

"Shit." Quinn mumbles, as Beiste storms out on her way to find Brittany and Santana.

* * *

Beiste never came back. Considering how angry she was when she left the OR Quinn decides to be on her best behavior and try to avoid pissing off her resident anymore than she already is. So she waits outside of the Chief's room, going into check on her from time to time, determined to do a good job of this.

She gets another phone call from her mother's nursing home, letting her know how disappointed they were she missed the family dinner.

"I know but something came up, and important surgery and I couldn't-"

"I'm just sorry you couldn't be there for your mother." Ms. Henry replies in a clipped tone.

"Look , if my mother were lucid, she would understand. She's a surgeon. She's done this countless times. And besides that, she doesn't even know who I am, anyway, so..."

"Today she did." Ms. Henry tells her gently.

Quinn freezes, and almost drops her phone in the process, "What?"

"Your mother's been asking when her daughter, Quinn gets off from work."

So now she really does feel like shit. She actually wants to cry, but she's standing in the middle of a hallway, and refuses to cry in public. So she stands there, frozen, unable to do anything.

Rachel approaches Quinn from behind placing a soft hand on her back so not to startle the blonde, "Hey." She says with a small smile.

"Hey." She replies automatically, bringing her phone from her ear slowly, and ending the call.

Rachel looks at her intently, sensing something's off with the blonde, "A lot of secret phone calls today." She says it lightly, almost teasing.

"Yeah." There's a long pause. Rachel doesn't speak because it looks like Quinn's debating something inside her head so the brunette just gives her some time to work it out. "It's my mother." Quinn finally says. She isn't travelling. She isn't writing a book. She isn't anything. I've been lying to everyone."

"Why?" Rachel asks, clearly confused.

"She has Alzheimer's."

Rachel's face changes quickly to one of understanding, "How advanced?" she asks softly.

"Very. She's in a home and I'm the only one who even knows she's sick. I just…I don't know what to do anymore, you know?"

Rachel nods in her head in understanding, taking a step forward and cupping the blonde's face soothing a thumb across her cheek. She doesn't say anything; she doesn't know anything she could say, so instead she just slowly leans forward and places a soft kiss on Quinn's forehead, wrapping her free arm around her waist and holding her close.

Quinn closes her eyes at the contact, slumping forward into Rachel and lets the brunette take care of her, even just for the shortest of moments. When she reluctantly pulls back, she slides a hand into Rachel's to keep some contact, flashing the brunette a watery, closed lip smile, "Thanks."

"It's what I'm here for." Rachel shrugs. She can't imaging for a second the pressure Quinn must have been under the past….well however long it was since she found out about her mother, having no one to talk to about it, or help her with it. Although is she's learnt anything about Quinn it's that she isn't someone who would ever want anyone's pity, so she squeezes the hand in hers and puts on her best show face, "Hey, you wanna sleep in the trailer tonight? I'll even light us a fire and we can make some smores."

She counts it as a success when Quinn flashes her a full on grin, "Sounds perfect."

* * *

Santana and Brittany are both pretty much elbow deep in Mr. Franklin when Beiste enters the room, "Don't even tell me you're doing what I think you're doing!" She yells. Scaring them both since they didn't even hear her enter, the both jump away from the body, holding their hands above their head like a guns being pointed at them.

They look at each other, with wide eyes and at a complete lost as to what they could say to make this…well not look so bad for them both. "Um…" Santana begins, but she's quickly cut off by Beiste.

"Not only did you disregard the family's wishes, you broke the law! You could be arrested for assault! Do you like jail? The hospital could be sued! I could lose _my_ license, _my_ job! Did you think about any of this before you started cutting open a poor man's dead body? I could seriously kick both of your asses right now. Do you have anything to say?"

They both pause for a moment, just in case that question was rhetorical, but when Besite sends them a look, which clearly asks, _'well?'_ Brittany's the first to react. She reaches into the scales next to her and holds it up for Beiste. "Look at his heart."

Beiste does a double take when she catches sight of it, "It's huge!" she states in wonder.

"It's over 600 grams, and there's some kind of grainy material in it." Brittany explains to her.

"We want to run some tests." Santana jumps in, because they're so close to getting an answer she really doesn't want to have to stop.

"Oh, _now_ you want to run some tests?" Beiste snaps.

"At this point, what could it hurt?" Santana asks with a shrug.

The look they both receive from Beiste is withering; it really brings a whole new meaning to the phrase, _'if looks could kill_'. But she looks at the heart again and, well she knows they're onto something, "I hate both of you right now."

* * *

When Quinn enters Chief Sylvester's room to check on her, she's already awake. She looks up when Quinn enters and in a groggy voice she asks, "Quinn? What are you doing? You're an intern. You should be focusing on that."

"What are you talking about Chief?" Quinn asks confused.

"You and Streisand."

She pauses for a minute, to think that one over, before realizing the chief's referring to Rachel, and must have saw them both earlier, "You saw us? You can see!" she exclaims, forgetting about the chief catching her with Rachel for a second, just happy the Chief isn't blind.

"I'm going to tell you what your mother would say if she were here. You're making a mistake, a big one."

"And I would tell my mother it's not a mistake." Quinn tells her confidently.

* * *

Brittany and Santana finally got the answers they were after. Mr. Franklin had a blood condition that caused him to have an excess amount of iron build up in his body. That's what caused his heart failure, not the paracentesis. Which also means his excessive drinking didn't cause his death.

Beiste makes both of them sit with Mr. Franklin's family, and tell them honestly how the preformed the autopsy despite them saying no. His daughter, Alice is furious, and does at one point mention suing the hospital. But when Santana cuts in straight away to tell them what it was that caused his death, his wife listens intently. And when they explain his condition was actually genetic and there's a chance of Alice having it. Well even she changes her mind. Especially considering after a simple blood test they could determine if Alice does have it, and will be able to treat it before it becomes critical for her.

They even have Dr. Beiste on side, "Dr. Pierce and Dr. Lopez may have saved your life. If you could just sign this consent form for the autopsy. Just a formality." She explains as she pushes the papers towards Mrs. Franklin.

_**The thing people forget is how good it can feel when you finally set secrets free. Whether good or bad, at least they're out in the open, like it or not.**_

Sam's sitting in the intern locker room with his head in his hands, looking very sorry for himself. He's had a long day of people laughing at him behind his back. When two feet appear in his eye line he looks up to find Suzy standing in front of him, "Um, about before…" Sam begins, but she quickly interrupts.

"Sam, I want you to understand, when we started dating, I was already kind of seeing someone. I didn't know how much I'd like you, and when I realized, I broke it off with the other guy –"

"Other guy? Who's the other guy?"

She doesn't answer him, but she does look over his shoulder and when he turns to see who she's looking at, he quickly puts two and two together.

"You and Puck?" He asks, disbelievingly, quickly turning angry, "You and Puck!?" he shouts it so loud Puck looks up at the sound of his name, to find Sam hurtling towards him yelling, "You gave me Syphilis!?" pinning him to the floor and punching him in the face.

Santana, Brittany and Santana are quick to round the lockers and find them. It takes the 3 of them, plus Suzy to pull Sam off the top of Puck with various shouts trying to calm him, "Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam, Back off!"

When they get manage to pry Sam from Puck, Santana keeps a hold of Sam, while Quinn takes Puck, leaving Brittany in the middle to make sure they stay apart. "Back off, Puck." Brittany tells him seriously. The dude gave Sam syphilis, Sam as entitled to a free punch.

_**And once your secrets are out in the open, you don't have to hide behind them anymore.**_

After finally getting both Sam and Puck calmed down, and making sure Puck left separately, Quinn finally leaves the locker room, heading towards the main waiting area of the hospital where she promised to meet Rachel. She's pretty much dragging her feet, when she spots Rachel sitting in one of the hospital chairs, flicking through a magazine.

Rachel smile's when Quinn approaches, noting how sluggish the blonde is moving, with her coat practically trailing along the floor. "Long day?"

"Yeah." Quinn replies tiredly.

Rachel sets the magazine down, and begins to stand up, "Somewhere out there is a pile of smores with your name on them, and maybe a bottle of wine."

"See? This is why I keep you around."

"Do you want to talk? About your mom and everything?"

Quinn scrunches up her nose in displeasure, "Wine first, talk later."

"You trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" Rachel teases.

The blonde chuckles, and begins putting her coat on, "I think I like this rules thing."

"Me too." Rachel admits softly. They share a smile and Rachel's quick to reach out and help Quinn into her coat, fixing the collar for her, while Quinn pulls her hair out from under it. She reaches down to grab her bag from the chair and turns to leave, but quickly stopping in her tracks when she spots a familiar figure.

She turns to Quinn, gently placing her hand on top of the blonde's upper arm, when Quinn turns to look at her she's surprised to find the brunette looking so remorseful, "Quinn, I am _so_ sorry."

_**The problem with secrets is even when you think you're in control...**_

Quinn's completely thrown by Rachel, she whispered the apology with so much reverence that Quinn believes that the brunette _is_ sorry, but she's still just utterly confused about what the brunette is apologizing _for_. But when Rachel looks forward again, Quinn follows her gaze and finds a man walking their way. A very attractive man, with perfectly styled dark hair and whose muscular frame is easily spotted, even under the coat he's wearing. He comes to a stop right in front of Rachel.

"Brody." Rachel greets him curtly. Leaving Quinn even more confused than before.

_**...you're not.**_

"What are you doing here?" she questions him.

"Well, you'd already know the answer to that if you bothered to return any _one_ of my phone calls." He turns to Quinn, who's still standing next to Rachel, looking utterly bewildered. "Hi. I'm Brody Weston." He smiles politely at her holding out his hand for her to shake.

Which she does, "Hi?"

His smile turns calculating, "I guess you're the person who's been screwing my wife."

And that's the exact moment everything comes crashing down around her.

* * *

**Special thanks goes to DAgron01 who's idea it was to use Brody! **

**Although I haven't really saw any of Glee season 4, so he maybe ooc.**

**I also apologize to anyone who isn't found of Brody, but I think we can all agree it's more plausible for him to be a Doctor as opposed to Finn.**


	10. Raindrops Keep Fallin' on my Head

_All mistakes are mine, I'm sorry - I'm too sleepy to give i a proper proof read. I'll get back to it at some point though._

_Without further ado, here's the aftermath of 'Who's Zoomin' Who?'_

* * *

_**To be a good surgeon, you have to think like a surgeon. Emotions are messy. Tuck them neatly away and step into a clean, sterile room where the procedure is simple. Cut, Suture, and close.**_

Empty glasses are lined up along the counter top in front of Quinn. She's sat by herself, in Dave's bar, looking...looking exactly like she just found out her girlfriend has a husband. She's pretty disheveled, mostly from the rain she just ran through to get away from Rachel and…_Brody_. Oh and she's really, very drunk.

A guy, who is clearly on the prowl ambles towards Quinn, he comes to a stop right next to her, charming grin and everything in place, he's about to open his mouth, but Quinn beats him to it. "Don't even think about it." she dismisses him without even bothering to look up.

_**Sometimes surgical thinking comes in handy. Even outside the OR.**_

Dave the bartender laughs slightly as the guy walks away looking like a wounded puppy, he takes one of the many shot glasses in front of Quinn and refills it, "You look familiar. You been here before?"

"Once. _That _worked out really well." Quinn snorts, before downing her drink. The bartender eyes her curiously.

"I know that look. It'll be one of two things. Either your boss is giving you hell or your boyfriend is. Which is it?"

"Neither."

_**But sometimes, you're faced with a cut that won't heal.**_

"My girlfriend is the problem." Quinn continues, "Well actually my girlfriend having a husband is the big problem."

Dave's face swiftly morphs to one of surprise and he's quick to pour her another drink, "Tell you what, this one, it's on the house. Courtesy of Dave Karofsky."

She smiles her thanks to Dave, before quickly lifting and downing the shot in one go, slamming the glass upside down on the bar once she's done.

_**A cut that rips its stitches wide open.**_

Rachel and Brody are still standing in the hospital lobby. Exactly where Quinn left them when she walked away. Rachel is angry. Actually Rachel is fuming. "Brody, what are you doing here?" she seethes.

Brody though ignores her anger, he was expecting it. He stares at her intently, "Your hair's different."

"A lot of things are different."

"It's longer. And the bangs. I like it. You were always too cute for your own good, but now...very Kim Kardashian." He reaches up; about to run his fingers through her hair, but Rachel moves back quickly, out of his grasp.

"What are you _doing _here?" she demands.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Brody retorts, "You just pick up and leave everything? Your house, your internship, your friends? You have a life in Manhattan."

"Had." She corrects.

"And now you have a girlfriend in Seattle. She seems…sweet."

"The ice you're on? Thin." Rachel warms him tightly before brushing past him and heading towards the door.

"She's young." Brody calls after her. Making Rachel stop in her tracks. Both of them turning to face each other once more, "Same age as you I guess. The whole wide-eyed, excited to be an intern thing still happening. And blonde…very blonde. And very much a women. Guess that's what you were going for, right? The anti-Brody."

"If you came out here to try and win me back, you can forget about it."

"I did. I flew all the way across the country to reminisce over wedding photos, get drunk, fall into bed, and make you realize you can't live without me. And they we could ride off into the sunset together..." Rachel's face flashes into a look of horror and Brody can't help but laugh. "I forgot how much fun it is to freak you out. Relax Rachel. I'm here for work. I'm here to help with a TTTS case. From the doctor who called me, Shannon Beiste? From her Briefing, it sounds like I'll be safely back on my side of the country in a few days."

"Dr. Beiste, she knew you were coming out here?"

"She asked me to come, well first her, then the Chief. Didn't they tell you?"

"No. No they didn't." Suddenly Beiste hating her so much makes sense.

"Hmm. Well...Surprise." He smiles at her, before turning to leave, only taking a few steps before turning back to face Rachel, "The hair, though. You know I've always had a thing for Kim Kardashian." He winks at her.

_**The thing is, once a cut like that is in front of your, there's no turning back. Messy or not, you have to deal with it.**_

Since both Brittany and Puck are on call tonight, it was left up to Brittany to help Puck get over his run in with Sam's fist. Puck's holding an ice pack to his swollen eye, moving to the mirror to take a look at where a brand new shiner is already beginning to show.

"Let me see it." Brittany orders gently, grabbing his chin and turning him to face her "No lacerations, minimal swelling. Sam really knocked you around."

"He's a lightweight. Could've pinned him in a second if I wanted." Puck huffs out as he turns back to the mirror.

"Yeah, so why didn't you?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm riding a career in Plastics all the way to the bank. Can't afford to injure these babies." He says as he holds up his hands. "Especially over someone like, Evans."

"You had it coming." Brittany calls over her shoulder as she heads towards the door.

"The dude punches like my sister."

"Oh!" Brittany pauses by the door, "So, by your definition then, you got beat up by a girl." She smirks, as Puck turns to glare at her, but it only serves to aggravate his injury more and he ends up wincing in pain.

* * *

Quinn isn't even aware how long she's been sat alone at the bar, but she feels the draft of the door opening and looks over to see Sam and Santana entering the bar. They saddle up to where Quinn is sat, still brooding over her drink.

"All hail the champ!" David yells when he spots Sam, and everyone in the bar cheers for him. "So, my guy Puck finally got what was coming to him."

Santana looks oddly proud as she slaps Sam on the back, "Sam knocked him down in one punch. You should've seen it."

"I don't want to talk about it." Sam snaps as he throws his bag onto the ground.

"Brag, champ. Brag! You've earned it." Dave exclaims.

"Can I have a beer, please?" Sam asks quietly.

Quinn's barely able to sit on the barstool anymore without almost falling off it every time she breathes, "Let's play a game of whose life sucks the most. I'll win."

"Let's not." Santana replies tiredly.

"I'll win. I always win. And this time, I _really_ win."

"No, you don't want to play with me."

"Oh, I do. I'll even go first. Rachel's married."

Sam chokes on his beer; well not so much chokes as spits it out all over himself. "She's what?!"

Santana looks at him in disgusts, "Sam, beer is dripping from your nostrils." He brushes his hand over his mouth quickly before making a hasty exit towards the bathroom.

"Told you I'd win." Quinn shrugs.

"No. You didn't win."

"Did you hear me? I said Rachel is married. As in pigheaded – adulterous – liar, married. To a man. Nothing you could say could top that."

"I'm pregnant." Quinn freezes, her Jaw drops open while Santana merely, calmly motions to Dave and has him pour another drink for Quinn. "I win."

As Dave makes his way over towards Quinn and Santana he grasps his head, before toppling over the bar and spilling drinks everywhere, before flopping back onto the floor.

Shell shocked Quinn and Santana stare down at an unconscious, beer-covered Dave for a moment, turning to face each other with matching expressions before quickly jumping into action, springing from their seats and moving around towards him.

"Okay. Maybe Dave wins." Santana dead pans as she rushes to his side.

Quinn and Santana crouch next to Dave, and begin an examination on his straight away. In the meantime Sam's made it back from the bathroom, and quickly assesses the situation before grabbing his phone.

Inside a couple of minutes, Dave starts to regain consciousness again, trying to sit up, still clutching his head.

"Dave, lie back down." Santana tells him firmly.

"The medics are coming." Sam informs them as he kneels next to Quinn beside Dave.

"You called the gurney patrol?" Dave complains through clenched teeth.

"Sit back and relax." Quinn tells him sternly. "We have to take you to the hospital to run some tests."

"Tests? I don't need tests. I'm fine!"

Santana scoffs loudly, "Dude, you collapsed! On the floor. This is your bar. You _know _how filthy this floor is."

"Radial pulse is strong." Quinn informs Santana.

"Minor skull contusions." Santana reports back to the blonde.

It's probably all the alcohol that's currently coursing through her system, but to Quinn now seems as good a time as any to confront Santana, "You've been _sleeping_ with someone?"

"What? Who?" Sam asks shocked.

Santana narrows her eyes at him, "What? Is that such a shock?" She turns to look at Quinn, both still trying to keep Dave lying down. "Even Sam managed to get some action."

"Correction." Sam interrupts, "Sam got some Syphilis."

"How could_ I_ not know, you were sleeping with someone?" Quinn asks. She thought they were friends. That's the kind of thing friends share, right?

"Forget this." Dave snaps, as he hoists himself up, still weak and wobbly.

"Dave!" Santana yells at him as they try to help him, be he just shrugs them off, even though he lurches forward, obviously not okay.

"The hospital is right across the street, I can sure as hell walk across the street by myself." Dave argues as he proceeds toward the door.

The three interns look around each other, confused about what they should do for the best.

"I got him!" Sam shouts as he goes after him.

* * *

Once they escort Dave into the hospital, he's taken and seen straight away by the trauma staff, who admits him shortly after. Quinn, Sam, and Santana wait anxiously outside, of where Dave is being examined. Quinn moves towards Santana tugging her arm, and pulling her to one side, away from everyone else.

"All right. Details. You're pregnant? What are you going to do?" she asks softly.

"Look, you know what happens to pregnant interns. I'm not switching to the vagina squad or spending my life popping zits. I'm too talented. Surgery's my life."

"Which begs the question: _who_ are you sleeping with?" Quinn asks.

"Just...a guy." Santana tells her dismissively.

"A guy? That's all I get? You can't just bring something like this up and expect me to drop it."

"Well, watch me." Santana snaps, turning around and heading back to the rest of the group.

While they were having their conversation, Brittany's appeared next to Sam having heard about Dave being admitted, She frowns when she see's Quinn, "Why are you back here tonight, don't you have a date with McDreamy?"

"More like McMarried." Sam mumbles.

"Mc_What_?" Brittany asks, shocked.

"I came to check on Dave." Quinn tells them, hoping to never have to discuss Rachel ever again.

Sam looks over to the bed Dave's asleep on, "You think he's going to be okay?"

"You think he's going to need an operation?" Santana queries.

"Operation? Yes." Dr. Scheuster answer's quickly as he walks up to the group of interns, "Okay? Hard to tell. Basilar artery's blown up like a balloon. Subarachnoid bleeding. Aneurysm the size of a golf ball."

Sam frowns, he knows what that means, "There's no way to clip something like that."

"Not without magic fingers." Brittany muses.

"Wanky." Santana whispers smirking at Quinn.

"Or a standstill operation." Dr. Scheuster mentions offhand.

Santana's face chances to one of completely excitement, "You're doing a standstill?" She exclaims, turning to the rest of the group, like they haven't just heard, "He's doing a standstill operation."

"I'd like to try. I already have Rachel getting me some information, but first I need some one of you to do some additional patient history, overnight labs, and a cerebral angio." He tries to hand the chart to Quinn, who's closest to him.

"I'm drunk." Quinn tells him honestly.

He looks at her slightly confused for a second, but he gets distracted when Rachel scurries past behind the other interns, hoping to go unnoticed. She has no doubt in her mind they'll all know by now. And she doesn't doubt for a second Santana could murder her and make it look like an accident. Unlucky for her though Dr. Schue decides to call her over.

So she goes…reluctantly. He discusses how much success she's had so far, and even as she answers she can practically feel the glares being directed to her. Dr. Schue hands her the chart before he leaves, with a smile, like he doesn't just realize he's lead the lamb to the slaughter when he tells her to get another intern to come on board.

She fumbles with the chart nervously, looking towards Quinn, who's being pretty damn astute at avoiding eye contact with her, "Quinn." She pleads desperately.

But the blonde just walks away, Rachel goes to follow, but Santana, Sam and Brittany all block her path. She sighs heavily, and when Santana snaps the chart from her grasp she figures it's a lost cause for now and walks away. Although she's almost certain she hears a softly whispered "McBastard" coming from Brittany as she leaves.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks Santana, because none of them should want to take this case if it means having to work with Rachel.

"Uh? I _am _on her side. But we're talking about a possible standstill here. Recognize."

* * *

Rachel goes the long way around and manages to spot Quinn walking out the main doors of the hospital, heading towards her car. The brunette runs quickly to catch up with her, "Quinn!"

"Go away!" The blonde calls over her shoulder. Not stopping or slowing her pace.

"Just wait. We should discuss this."

"Here's a thought. No!" Quinn yells as she stops abruptly, and turns to face Rachel. "Quit following me!"

"At least let me explain." Rachel pleads – to Quinn's back since she's started storming off again.

"Explain?" Quinn scoffs, as she turns to face the brunette once again, "You know when you should have explained? The night we met in the bar. Before _any_ of the rest of it. Yeah, that would have been a good time to discuss it."

"Look, I know how you feel."

"Do you? Do you really know how I feel? Somehow I doubt it, because if you did, you would shut up, right now. You'd turn around and go back inside to dry off. And leave me the hell alone. Because you would realize I am _this close_ to getting in my car and running you down in the damn parking lot!"

She doesn't wait for any reply, just turns and walks into the downpour outside, leaving Rachel standing there, staring after her helplessly.

Sam comes running up to join Quinn a few seconds later, holding an umbrella over her head as she walks. "Where are your keys?" Sam asks gently.

"I'm fine!" She snaps. Refusing to let him help her. But Sam doesn't budge, or leave her alone.

"Quinn." He says calmly, "Give me your keys. Let's go home." After a moment she sighs in defeat and lets him gently pries the keys from her fist.

* * *

The next morning Quinn's hangover is…painful. Not as painful as when all the memories from the night before come crashing into her. But at least she can deal with the hangover pain by downing a few Advil and a shitload of coffee.

She even manages to make it into work in good time, sneaking into the locker room, and pleased o not find Rachel in there already. She isn't in a great mood though, so she's been doing what she always does when she's in a bad mood - vent her frustrations to Santana.

"Brody Forbes Montgomery Weston. He has four names. Who has four names?" Quinn muses as she slips her shoes on.

"And he's a famous pediatric surgeon." Santana helpfully adds as she sits down next to the blonde.

"Of course he is. He's a brilliant, world renowned, fetal surgeon - who saves unborn babies and has a perfectly sculpted body, with perfectly styled hair and perfectly chiseled features. He's me. Only you know...brilliant and handsome and bound to Rachel by marriage."

"So nothing like you then." Santana deadpans, before nudging Quinn with her elbow. "I bet he's evil. You know, on the inside. A gooey evil centre. Trust me, I would know. I bet he kills puppies."

Quinn sighs in defeat, as much as she wants to hate him she can't, he's the wronged one here. "Don't try to make excuses for Rachel. She cheated on her husband. Her Perfect, flawless, too good looking to be a doctor husband. If anybody's evil, it's her."

"His boobs are totally bigger than yours too." Santana states dryly, smirking when she manages to make Quinn laugh. "I'll get the holy water. You get the stake. We'll Buffy the shrimp out of existence."

* * *

Rachel's killing some time by the coffee cart. She should really be in the intern locker room by now getting ready for rounds. But the thought of being in such close quarters surrounded by Brittany, Sam, Santana _and _Quinn, well its pretty anxiety inducing.

She's lost in her own thoughts, cup of coffee in hand leaning against the pillar next to the coffee cart, the pillar thankfully hiding her from most of the hospital, when a familiar voice pulls her from her thoughts.

"So…You're married." It's flat, almost clinical in tone.

She turns around to face the owner of the voice. "Kurt…I…" She closes her eyes and shakes her head, because really - _everything_ is such a mess right now. She has hurt _so_ many people. "I'm sorry...I just…"

"Decided to leave that bombshell out of all our conversations."

"I'm _sorry_ Kurt, I truly am."

"I know." He's hurt. That much is obvious. But he still sends her a weak, understanding smile. "I overheard the whispers of Sam and Brittany this morning. I figured you wouldn't be going to the locker room until the coast was clear."

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure Santana's planning 101 ways to kill me and make it look like an accident."

"She could probably pull it off too. Lord knows she's an overachiever." Kurt responds dryly. They both share a small genuine smile. "I'm going to assume that you were going to tell me about your marriage when you were ready to. So I won't hold a grudge. Plus I'm fairly confident you need a friend right now, so just know if you want one, I'm here."

Rachel doesn't really have an answer for that, she was so sure she'd loose everyone, yet Kurt is still here. She sniffs loudly – trying to hold back the tears, before giving up completely and throwing her arms around Kurt's neck and clinging to him. It barely takes him anytime at all to start rubbing her back and whispering some words of comfort in her ear.

* * *

Back in the locker room Sam and Puck are stood next to each other getting ready for their day, periodically glaring at one another when the other isn't looking.

"Gonna be fun watching you try to get a date around here now. No one's gonna hook up with the resident 'Rash Boy'." Sam gloats.

"Please. I've been rash-free for weeks. You're the one who's contagious." Puck retorts.

"Face it. Your hospital mojo is over."

"My stethoscope has more game than you. I could score with anyone I wanted by the end of the day."

Sam bristles slightly at the comment, but he refuses to show any weakness in front of Puck, "Wanna bet?"

"Anyone." He looks up as the door swings open and Brittany walks in, "Hell, even Brittany."

"Not a chance." Sam scoffs.

"Could too."

"Could not."

"Hey, Beauty Queen." Puck greets Brittany as she walks over, his leer firmly in place.

"Bite me, Rash Boy." Brittany replies without hesitation.

Sam laughs out loud to the brisk and outright put down, "See, could not."

"Whatever, Lady lips." Puck replies as he skulks off.

Brittany leans on the locker next to Sam, looking over at Puck's bruised eye, "I can't believe you gave Puck a black eye."

"I'm not a violent person. I'm a pacifist. But, you know, he just kept pushing and pushing…he pushed me and I pushed back." Sam replies, continually checking over his shoulder as if he expects Puck to launch an attack when Sam least expects it. "You think he'll…"

"You know what? If Puck tries to lay a hand on you, just tell me. I'll take care of it."

"You'll?...I don't need you to take care of it. If Puck starts something I'll handle it myself. I can handle it."

They're all interrupted by Beiste barging into the locker room unannounced. "I could wait for you people to finish socializing, but I have surgery this morning and I didn't schedule it around your personal lives. Lopez, you're on discharges. Evans, report to E119. Fabray, come see me. And who was on call last night?"

Puck and Brittany both raise their hands tentatively, Beiste 'tsks' at them disapprovingly, plunking a stack of patient charts onto the bench, "Sloppy. Sloppy. Sloppy. Redo theses and return them to me before lunch. Understood?"

The interns disperse, except Quinn who follows an apologetic looking Beiste out the door. "You knew didn't you?" Quinn asks her quietly.

"Yes." Beiste replies she waits for Quinn to speak again. But the blonde merely quirks an eyebrow at her, prompting her to continue. Usually Beiste would be kind of annoyed at Quinn treating a superior in such a way – but she figures today of all days she should cut the blonde some slack. "Schuester recommended allowing Rachel to join the program. The chief had been off so I read over her application. I'm sure you'll remember those forms generally ask about marital status."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"It wasn't my place to say."

"Then why treat me like you did? If it wasn't '_your place _to say'. Why treat me so differently when you found out? Chief Sylvester knew too right?" Beiste nods her head tentatively, "You're both full of such great advice but neither of your thought for a second that perhaps if you just _told_ me straight you could have saved everyone from a lot drama."

"Quinn…" Beiste begins, but Quinn can't stand the look of pity in her eyes and cuts her off sharply,

"Don't." She says warningly, "You are my boss, and at least _I_ can say I'm professional, so tell me what I'm doing today and I can go."

Beiste hesitates for a moment, "There's been a special request for you."

* * *

Despite the mess her personal life is currently is, Rachel can actually say, she's excited today, in a professional sense, with the prospect of being allowed to scrub in on a standstill operation. Although Dr. Schuester isn't exactly in the best of moods, after finding out the Chief named Dr. Martinez as her short term replacement, instead on him. Rachel's pretty sure he didn't actually want to be chief, more like he wanted to be able to spend more time with the chief's secretary, Emma. She doesn't voice that thought, it's confirmed though when instead of going to talk to Martinez about clearing his OR schedule he instead goes to see Emma. Leaving it up to Rachel to speak to Martinez for him.

"Excuse me, Dr. Err Chief Martinez?"

"Dr. Martinez is fine Dr. Berry, I'm only chief for a few days." He tells her kindly.

"Um Congratulations by the way."

"Thank you, Berry. So what can I do for you?"

"It's about Dr. Schuester's OR schedule. He plans on carrying out a standstill operation on Dave, you know the bartender from across the street? And obviously it's quite a lengthy procedure."

"A standstill? Impressive. Consider it done."

"Thank you Sir."

He sends a smile Rachel's way before continuing, "So I met your husband up in the attendings lounge, he's very impressive."

Rachel opens her mouth to reply when a familiar voice intervenes, "That's true. I am impressive." Brody jests as he joins them by the OR board.

They both turn to look at Brody, looking well groomed as always...Rachel narrows her eyes at him, already clearly annoyed by his presence. He sends a smile her way, before focusing again on the interim Chief. "Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Martinez."

"You're not interrupting." Dr. Martinez reassures Brody quickly.

"He's _always_ interrupting." Rachel mutters under her breath.

Brody catches it though. He smirks at Rachel's attitude, "I'm just checking to see if Chief Martinez managed to secure..."

"The intern you requested?" Quinn finishes for him as they all turn around to find her standing awkwardly behind Rachel and Brody her hands deep in her lab coat pocket, "Yea. He did."

Rachel's eyes wide in shock, she looks helplessly between a smug looking Brody and a blonde who is looking anywhere but at the brunette. Her girlfriend and husband working together?…this can't be good. She's is saved from having to make any kind of comment when her pager goes off and she scurries way as quickly as possible.

* * *

It's her job. Quinn keeps telling herself. She can do this. She can be professional. Brody…Dr. Weston is a top surgeon and she can learn a lot from him. All she has to do is be professional. And you know, not think about how he's married to the woman she's been sharing a bed with for the past few months.

She stands off to the side as Brody examines their patient. Julie Phillips, the TTTS patient he flew across the country to consult on. To be fair, Quinn's actually been incredibly impressed by Bro…Dr. Weston and how composed and business like he's managing to be, while she just stands there trying hard to mask the all consuming awkwardness she feels. Although Dr. Weston firing questions at her lightening fast has been helping her focus slightly more on the case and less on the awkward situation.

"Define TTTS."

"Twin Twin Transfusion Syndrome. Conjoined fetal twins."

"Connected by…?"

"Blood vessels in the placenta."

"Meaning?"

Quinn hesitates a moment to think, she hesitates a moment to long though and Brody is quick to answer his own question. "One twin receives too much blood and the other too little. Endangering the lives of both. I'd expect you to know that Fabray." Brody finishes, turning to look at her unimpressed.

Quinn dies a little. But she's saved from having to respond when Mrs. Phillips joins the conversation. "They told me there wasn't much chance that anything could be done. But…"

"TTTS is almost impossible to correct. Unless you're one of a handful of surgeons in the world who know how to separate the fetal blood vessels. Which lucky for you, Mrs. Phillips, I am." Quinn almost wants to hate him for being so god-damn arrogant, but the warm smile he flashes at his patient kind of makes up for it, and she can't help but be impressed. "I'm scheduling your surgery for tomorrow. Anything you need ask Dr. Fabray here. From what I've seen she's one of the hospital's most…popular interns." Brody finishes with another smile, heading towards the door, Quinn following close behind.

"I could have answered your question, if you'd have given me the chance." Quinn informs Brody.

He stops just outside of the door, turning to look at Quinn. "Chin up Dr. Fabray. I'm tough on everyone. Not just the woman my wife sleeps with." He holds out the patient file, and continues "Order an ultrasound, pre-op labs including quantitative beta HCG. Watch her blood pressure – can't afford to let it get any higher."

Sadly what they both failed to notice was that Mrs. Phillips just overheard their whole conversation. Meaning Quinn's day was about to get a whole lot worse.

* * *

Sam arrives at E119, excited about maybe some top secret, kick-ass surgical case that may lie behind the door. Only to discover, upon opening that it's Chief Sylvester's room. His step falters as he enters the room, finding her sitting up in her bed, wearing, what looks like a red addidas tracksuit top, her glasses balanced on the end of her nose, as she flips through some papers. She looks over the top of said glasses towards where Sam is awkwardly standing just inside the door.

"Good. You're here. Let's get started."

"Okay…" Sam jumps into action, moving towards the Chief, beginning by examining the Chief's face. She raises an eyebrow at him, "Evans. You're touching me."

"Well…yeah." He explains, as if it's obviously, I mean how else is he meant to examin…"No?"

"Listen very carefully. As long as I'm in here, I won't know what's happening out there. With my doctors. My patients. My hospital. You are my eyes, today. My ears. I want you to be a sponge."

"A sponge?" Sam asks confused.

"You report any and everything happening in this hospital to me."

"I'm an investigative sponge…"

"I'm not fooling around, Evans. Too much has been happening lately under my radar. It stops today."  
She waves a hand at Sam, basically shooing him away from her room to fulfill his duties as a…sponge.

He leaves the room quickly, taking his duties to heart. I mean it was the Chief who asked him to do it. The _Chief_. He's on a special mission for the most powerful woman in the hospital, maybe if he impresses he would get to like…scrub in on some really cool surgeries.

For the first hour of his mission he tried to casually lurk around the hospital, specifically around groups of people having a conversation. Trying to slide up to those conversations as inconspicuously as possible. Sadly for Sam his casual lurking skills fail miserably.

All he managed to overhear was Schuester and Martinez discussing the standstill operation they're planning to carry out on Dave later. Plus some run of the mill hospital gossip - Oh and of course someone was discussing his Syphilis. Someone's _always_ discussing his Syphilis. Stupid Puck.

Of course that all pales in comparison with what happed when he lurked in the stairwell. He wasn't actually meaning to be lurking, he just happened to be stood on the stairwell, and hear the familiar voice of Santana. He was actually hoping to gain some insight on Quinn, and if he should maybe make a move now it turns out Rachel's been married this whole time. But then he hears Dr. Martinez's angry voice demanding Santana tells him what she wants and well…he can't help and sneak a peek over the handrail to watch.

"What?" Santana asks as she looks up at him, clearly confused.

"What do you want? You don't want to go out to dinner. You don't want to meet me in the on call room. You sure as hell don't want to talk to me. I could pretend I know but…hey, I don't even know you phone number. So tell me Santana, what do you want?"

Santana stands frozen for a beat, startled at the out bursts, similar to a deer in headlights. "Don't yell at me."

He laughs bitterly. Turning to walk away from Santana. She takes a hold of his bicep, turning him around to look at her again, "We're having a conversation here."

He sighs heavily in frustration, "What do you want!?"

"I don't know!" Santana yells back.

They stand staring at each other for a beat, before Martinez grabs Santana's arms and kisses her. Hard. He pulls back after a few moments, "Figure it out." He tells her before walking off. Leaving a stunned, confused and conflicted…and yeah kind of breathless Santana behind.

Along with an utterly flabbergasted Sam.

* * *

Back in Julie's room, Quinn's in the middle of performing an ultrasound on the woman. Well trying to, she can feel the woman's eyes on her, scrutinizing her and its making her feel highly uncomfortable. And her heart just about stops when Julie finally opens her mouth.

"What does it take to go after another person's wife?"

Quinn's eyes flick from the ultrasounds screen to Julie's, "Excuse me?"

"Similar thing happened to me. Jeff moved in with the long-legged mini skirt who answers his phones. Three weeks into my pregnancy – by the way, the gel is really cold." She informs Quinn condescendingly.

"Sorry" Quinn apologizes. Waiting a beat to add, a sincere. "I'm sorry about your husband."

"Are you sorry about Dr. Weston's _wife_?"

Quinn tries to ignore the comment. She's a doctor. She continues as professionally as she can, explain exactly what she's doing to her patient. "I'll be checking a few things today-"

"I bet he asked to work with you. It's what I would have done."

Quinn clears her throat awkwardly before continuing on with what she was originally saying. "…your twins' heart rates, fluid levels-"

"When I found out about the mini-skirt? I called her up and took her to lunch."

"Fetal location. Ovaries…" She trails off, and takes a closer look at the ultrasound. Something seems…_not right._ She tries to concentrate but her patient makes that difficult.

"I was perfectly civil, told her I didn't hold it against her. That these things happened. But really? I just wanted to put a face on the bitch who got my husband to throw away 15 years of marriage."

Quinn smiles, as politely as she can at Julie, placing the ultrasound scanner back into its holder, she stands up, trying to look as calm as possible, "I'm going to go check on your labs." She leaves the room – flustered, but also worried, the scan did not look so good.

* * *

Sam's standing alone, at the window of the nursery, staring at the newborn babies. "Hi, Chief. No, not much going on…other than your interim chief making out with my friend in the stairwell, but hey. Besides that…" he trails off, blowing out a frustrated puff of air. "Sponge duty sucks."

"Talking to you yourself now, Sam?" Quinn teases as she appears from nowhere next to Sam.

"Yes." He answers automatically, shaking his head quickly, "No. I mean…dammit! I'm a bad sponge. A leaky kind of sponge. I'll leak all the wrong secrets. Because I'm a bad liar. See? I can't even lie about talking to myself." He finally looks over at Quinn, subtly doing a double take before mumbling quietly, "You look nice today."

Quinn allows herself a small smile at that, "Wore my new lip-gloss. Because my ex-girlfriend's husband came straight out of a freakin' Abercrombie & Fitch commercial. And I'm like…_me_. I'm trying to outdo him when he's the victim here. How crazy is that?"

"Not crazy. Smart. Gloss, for instance, prevents chapped-lips. And you could totally pass as an Abercrombie & Fitch model too. I mean if you wanted too…did you really mean _EX_-girlfriend?"

"I'm an evil mistress."

"Well still….you look nice."

Quinn softens slightly, "Thanks, Sam….What are you doing here?"

Sam starts to speak…but stops. Then starts again…and stops. Quinn looses patience and rolls her eyes, "Come on, Evans. Out with it."

Sam clears his throat before turning to face Quinn, "Can you think of any reason – _any_ reason at all, really – why Santana would be kissing Martinez?"

Quinn's head snaps around to stare at Sam so quickly, he wonders for a second if she might have given herself whiplash.

* * *

Santana's in an elevator. She's been riding up and down in it for a while. It helps her think. And keeps her away from people she isn't ready to face. Like Quinn, for example.

The elevator stops at one of the floors. She isn't sure which one to be honest. And she barely looks up when a couple of people exit. But she does catch a fleeting glace at one very pissed off looking Quinn Fabray. Quinn Fabray with her hands positioned on her hips and her lips pursed as she walks…well struts, towards the elevator. The pair pretty much have a staring contest. Santana has no idea why Quinn's so pissed. She assumes it's something to do with Rachel, but she has too much else on her mind to really think to hard about it.

"You getting in or what?" Santana asks, sounding almost bored.

Quinn arches an eyebrow, and walks inside the now empty - apart from Santana - elevator. Neither speaks until the doors close and they know they're alone. And once the doors do glide closed…well…Quinn whips around, hands still on her hips, and…

"How do you decide what information you share with the people in your life? Is there a formula to it? Some list of rules?" She asks, sounding every bit as pissed as she looks.

"What?" Santana asks, slightly preoccupied with other thoughts.

It only causes Quinn to grow more incensed, "Example- I've told you lots of things. About me. About work. About Rachel, and now her husband. Clearly you don't extend the same courtesy to me. So really I'm curious?"

Okay…so Santana's really lost now, "About…?"

"Whether or not you've told Martinez you're pregnant with his baby?"

Santana's mouth drops open and she stares at Quinn in disbelief just as the elevator dings and the doors open.

Three people enter the elevator, Quinn - as pissed as she is right now – still has the presence of mind to realize a busy elevator isn't the best place for this conversation; she takes hold of Santana's bicep, and drags her off the elevator to a quieter part of the hallway.

"After all this time. All the crap you gave me about sleeping with a colleague…and the whole time, you've been doing the same, except you've been sleeping with our boss!"

"It's not the same thing!" Santana argues.

"You're right. Yours is much worse."

"No it isn't. Look you and McMunchkin are in a _relationship_."

"And you and Martinez are in…?" Quinn question angrily, and probably slightly too loudly.

Santana looks around quickly to make sure no one heard, shaking her head at Quinn, "Switzerland. It's…it's neutral there. And they have nice watches."

Quinn sets her jaw, translating that into Santana's polite way of saying, _'none of your business.' _She folds her arms across her chest, continuing to glare at the brunette in front of her. "God, have you even bothered to tell Martinez about the baby?" She gives Santana a chance to reply, but the brunette just sighs and looks at the floor, "Are you going to?"

"Look, Quinn…can we not go there? Can everyone just accept the fact that I like to keep some things to myself? That I don't discuss everything to death?"

The hurt of that dismissal is evident in Quinn's eyes when she replies, "Why did you even bother to confide in me? If you're so intent on not discussing this, why tell me at all?" this time she doesn't give Santana a chance to respond before turning on her heal and walking away, leaving an exhausted Santana behind.

* * *

Rachel's day has not improved, at all. She had high hopes for the day but then she remembered she's stuck working with Santana on Dave's case. And Santana has a pretty terrifying glare on her. Rachel would know, it's been directed towards her all day. Coupled with that fact that her husband and girlfriend are working together…well yeah, you can imagine.

She's on her way back to find Dr. Schuester to discuss some of Dave's lab results when she spots Brody. She really was perfectly content with just ignoring him until he left. But with the stunt he pulled this morning with Quinn….well…she storms up to him. In all her 5ft 2 glory. "That took nerve. Requesting Quinn."

Brody looks up, surprised – but he schools his features quickly, smiling at the brunette, "She came highly recommended."

Rachel clicks her tongue against the room of her mouth, trying, unsuccessfully to suppress an eye roll, "Right."

"What you wouldn't recommend her?"

She narrows her eyes at him, "I didn't say that."

"Just not for her medical skills, ey?" Brody responds with a smug grin.

"Shut-_up_, Brody."

Quinn approaches them, reluctantly. She spotted them talking at the end of the hallway, and was about three seconds away from turning around and leaving – But she's professional. And her patients well being comes before any…awkwardness the situation may involve. She completely Ignores Rachel's presence, figuring that's the easiest way around this. "Dr. Weston." She waits until she has his attention before continuing, "Labs confirm what looks like abnormalities in the ultrasound. I think you should see for yourself."

"Okay, let's go." He sends another smug grin Rachel's way before leaving, with Quinn making a move to follow.

"Quinn…" Rachel begins, pleading with her to just stop for one second and listen.

The blonde whirls around to meet her gaze. "Don't."

When the make it to Julie's room, Brody is quick to begin an ultrasound, with Quinn standing over his shoulder pointing to what she say on the scan earlier, "See, Bilateral pleural effusions with evidence of sub-Q edema…"

"In English, please?" Julie snaps at the blonde, before looking to Dr. Weston for reassurance.

Brody turns his focus to his patient, trying to comfort her, "Don't be alarmed, but we've detected what looks like the beginning of heart failure in the twins."

"Are my babies going to be okay?" Julie asks, understandably panicked.

"I'm going to take you into surgery now. We're not going to wait." He turns to Quinn, "Book the OR. _Move_." He orders when Quinn hesitates for a second. I mean this all seems kind of rushed; it was literally only 3 minutes ago when Dr. Weston started the ultrasound, and now they're rushing her into surgery. She snaps out of it though, and goes off to book the OR as quickly as possible.

* * *

Sam wanders back to the Chief's room. He figures he's been avoiding it for long enough. The Chief looks up from what she was writing when Sam enters. "Evans. What's the report?"

"No report." Sam replies quickly, quietly cursing himself for being so damn awkward. "Its um…very quiet today Ma'am"

"There's no news, gossip, surgeries I should know about? Now come on Evans, what's the buzz?" Chief Sylvester prods.

"None Chief. Not in the halls, not in the OR, not in the stairwells. _Especially_ nothing happening in the, you know?...they're just stairwells."

The chief narrows her eyes at Sam and his bumbling. "What are you holding out on me, Evans? I know there's something. I can smell it on you."

Hi eyes widen at that confession and he fumbles for an excuse, before the perfect thing to discuss with the Chief hits him, "Actually, there is something Ma'am."

Chief Sylvester smirks in triumph at breaking Sam, "Martinez and Schuester marking territory on the playground?"

"Um...No Ma'am. It's about Dave. You know the bartender. The standstill patient." It was after his discussion with Quinn, when he went to lurk around Martinez some more when he overheard Dave explain to Martinez and Puck that he can't afford his surgery. He explains the story to Chief Sylvester, asking if there's anything they can do to help.

"We operate on our patients. That's it." She tells him dismissively.

"I know, but…"

"I sympathize, I do." Chief Sylvester claims, although she doesn't look much like she does. "But solving Dave's finances is not my job. It's not your job and it sure as hell is not the job I assigned you today."

Sam sighs in defeat, "It just seems wrong to cut him open, sew him up, and just leave him, you know, left with nothing."

"If we can save his life, we'll hardly be leaving him with nothing."

Reluctantly Sam nods in agreement and leaves the room. He's not giving up though. There has to be _something _they can do.

He goes and grabs a copy of the hospital manual along with Dave's insurance documents and heads to the observation gallery to read over them, hoping to find a loophole during Dave's surgery.

He's sat behind Brittany, who's pretty much front and centre, munching on a granola bar, Puck comes in and plunks down next to the blonde. "Oh, sure You guys say I'm the one with the heart of stone yet _you_ brought snacks to a surgery."

"It's a working lunch. " Brittany shrugs.

"Snacks to watch Dave die." Puck retorts.

"He's not going to DIE die. They'll bring him back."

Puck scoffs at her, "He is going to DIE _die._ No PULSE _pulse_. He's going to be DEAD _dead_."

And _that's_ the exact moment that it hits Sam. "Dead!" he shouts, causing all the others to turn and look at him.

He doesn't notice though he's too busy running out the room to tell the Chief. He practically just barges into the Chief's room, and begins quickly to explain how they can help Dave financially. He's already made the phone calls. He just needs the Chief onside.

"He's dead. Technically. Which is science, and this is a huge thing. So I thought some research foundation has to have an interest in that."

"So, in essence, you want to donate Dave's body to science?"

"At least for the next…" He quickly checks his watch, "17 minutes."

"A privately funded grant."

"For educational purposes. We're a teaching hospital. The standstill surgery qualifies."

Chief Sylvester starts at Sam a few moments. "I didn't peg you for the type to ignore my instructions, Evans."

Sam swallows hard, because you know..Chief Sylvester is really scary. "All due respect, Ma'am. It's worth a shot. It's someone's life."

"It's always someone's life, Evans." The Chief says dismissively. "Didn't I assign you to the roll of investigative sponge today? Not Lawyer."

Sam turns to leave. He's just about made it to the door when he finds, like 30 seconds of bravery out of nowhere. He turns around and looks the Chief right in the eye. "Okay. I tried. I _really_ tried. But there's a lot of stuff happening out there. Stuff I can't tell you. Stuff I _won't_ tell you. Crazy stuff. Stuff I'm going to have nightmares about. But I'm not going to tell you about any of it. Because it doesn't matter. _Not_ when there's a guy out there who we all know and love who's going to go _bankrupt _because he needed a surgery to save his life. And I think you're wrong Ma'am. Now you can fire me, or you know, bring me up on disciplinary action or whatever. But I'm telling you, Dave deserves…"

"Deserves our help." Chief Sylvester finishes for him with wry grin. "I didn't think you had it in you, Evans." His mouth flaps for a response, but nothing comes out. So the Chief continues, "Here" She tells him holding out the request for, that she's already signed. "Give it to Emma, she'll know what to do with it. Looks like Dave may keep his bar after all."

"Thank you Chief." Sam takes the papers quickly and starts to leave.

"Evans!" Once he turns to look at Chief Sylvester again, she cocks an eyebrow at him and tells him, quite seriously, "If you ever yell at me again, I'll snap you like a twig."

He gulps loudly. "Yes Ma'am."

* * *

Julie's operation went well. Better than well it went incredibly smoothly. Even though she doesn't want to be, Quinn has no choice but to be impressed with how calm and in control Brody was throughout the surgery.

They both head towards Julies room a little after the surgery, after she's woken up to check her over.

"Your babies are doing really well." Brody tells her, after his examination. Julie sighs in relief at his words. "Dr. Fabray will be back to check on you later…" Brody tells her politely just before he turns to leave.

"Actually – I'd prefer it if Dr. Fabray were taken off the case."

Quinn stiffens.

Brody's eyebrows crease in confusion, as he looks to Quinn quickly before turning back to Julie, "Why? Is there a problem?"

Julie looks over at Quinn, eyeing her from head to toe, with a pinched expression, "She reminds me of someone I didn't like very much. Someone my husband likes a lot. Particularly in lingerie." She turns her attention back to Brody, smiling sympathetically, "You understand."

Brody pauses for a moment, before realizing exactly what Julie is getting at, and then…"No. No, I don't understand."

"Well, she's sleeping with your wife, right?"

Brody takes a deep breath, before calmly starting, "Ms. Phillips. I lack Dr. Fabray's class and patience so, let me set the record straight. My wife didn't cheat on me. I cheated on her. If anyone is the wronged person here, it's Dr. Fabray. And seeing as how she put up with what I'm assuming has been your abuse all day long without coming to me to complain, and still gave you and your babies the best medical care possible. I think you owe her one _hell _of an apology." With that Brody leaves, leaving behind a stunned patient and an even more stunned intern.

Quinn follows him into the hallway. "You cheated on Rachel? Why didn't you say anything? Before, I mean….I went the whole day thinking…"

"Look, under different circumstances, we might have been friends. But we're not, so…" And for the first time since Quinn has met him she realizes how…_tired_ Brody looks, a little devastated actually. And suddenly Quinn realizes he isn't as tough and in control as he lets on. It's only the briefest of flashes and with only the smallest flicker, of a clenched jaw- it's gone, back to cool, calm and collected Brody that Quinn's seen all day. Whatever he was going to finish his sentence with, is clearly going to be left unsaid. He gives Quinn a brief nod. "Nice to have you on the team today, Fabray."

_**They say practice makes perfect.**_

It's been pouring with rain all day. Rachel kind of likes how reflective the weather has been of her current life. Quinn's ignored her all day. She doesn't blame the blonde, but she still would have appreciated having the chance to explain herself properly. But no of course Brody had to be an even bigger pain in the ass and request Quinn on his service for the day.

She's sat on the porch of her trailer, thankful that her dad had the presence of mind to have a cover over the porch. Not that she ever anticipated sitting out here, while the rain pours and she pours herself another glass of wine, all alone.

The rain seems to trail off, just as Quinn's car pulls up. Rachel has a fleeting thought about how poetic that seems. She just sits and watches as Quinn gets out of the car and approaches her slowly. They stare at each other for a long, long beat. It looks to Rachel that Quinn isn't going to say anything so she figures she might as well bite the bullet. There's only one reason Quinn would show up now after ignoring her the rest of the day…

"What did he tell you?"

"Enough to make me drive out here when it's the last thing I wanted to do." Quinn shrugs, like she isn't bothered either way.

Rachel nods her head, Quinn has her walls up. It's always fascinated Rachel how easily Quinn can just…shut off. She's watched her do it before, how she just closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and when she opens them again…that's it. It isn't Quinn anymore, it's Dr. Fabray. It's one of the reasons Rachel knows Quinn will make an incredible surgeon one day.

Rachel tilts her head, inviting Quinn to sit next to her. Which she does, Rachel takes that as a win – at least she knows Quinn will hear her out now. She grabs a hold of her wine glass, finishing it in one go. If she's going to relive this memory she needs as much courage as she can get.

"I had the perfect marriage. With the perfect husband, and the perfect house on the Upper West Side. A whole lot of perfect…" She smiles wryly. "Until one night, I got home from the library late. I parked my car, I unlocked the front door, I went inside my house, and something…something felt different." her gaze flickers to Quinn's for a second…

"I mean nothing _was _different, everything was the same, but…still _something_ was different. I stood there for a while. And then I know…See, there are these moments for me. Usually when I'm in the OR, when I just know what's going to happen next. I don't know, maybe I'm a little bit psychic, but I just _knew."_ She pauses again, and swallows heavily.

"So I went upstairs. I'm walking down the hall, trying to prepare myself for what I'm going to see when I get to the bedroom. Then I step on a jacket, a jacket that doesn't belong to me. And everything I think I know? It just…shifts."

She reaches up and brushes away the rogue tear already falling down her cheek, "Because the jacket doesn't belong to me, but it's a jacket I recognize. And what I knew then was the second I step foot in my bedroom, I'm not just going to see my husband cheating on me. I'm going to see that my husband is cheating on me with Cassandra. Who happened to have been one of my best friends. My mentor in some ways I guess. Nothing was perfect…and everything was different and…" She trails off, blinking back the rest of the tears because, yeah she's cried enough over Brody and Cassandra, especially in those first 4 weeks of being in Seattle, alone.

"It was just so…pedestrian, and common…so dirty and cruel. Mostly just cruel. So I left, I called Dr. Schue, told him I'd had a change of heart and wanted to work away from New York, so I came out here and..."

"And you met me." Quinn finishes for her.

Rachel looks over at Quinn and smiles softly, "And I met you."

"You could have told me. Before. I would have understood."

"Would you?" Rachel asks disbelievingly "If I had walked up to you that night in Dave's bar and told you that story, you would have understood? You would have said, yeah, okay _this_ is the girl for me."

_No _she wouldn't have. That doesn't necessarily mean she never would have given into Rachel though, "You could have at least given me the chance." Quinn shrugs.

"And now it's too late." Rachel ventures lightly.

"Well, what was I to you? The girl you screwed to get over being screwed?"

Rachel doesn't answer. It's a valid question from Quinn, Rachel knows that. She was expecting it. But she didn't expect it to _hurt_ so much. To hear Quinn boil their relationship down to just…what? Sex to numb the pain? It's _so_ far from the truth, but she knows how angry Quinn is right now, she knows that the blonde probably wouldn't trust her true intentions if she tried to explain. She isn't even sure if she can explain it herself, everything's just so confusing and messy right now.

Quinn gives Rachel a chance to answer, but she can feel her walls crumbling and she refuses to show any weakness in front of the brunette. So after a few moments of silence, Quinn just shakes her head and begins to walk away. "You're right. It's too late."

Seeing Quinn ready to leave makes Rachel just…answer with the only clear thought she has, "You were like coming up for fresh air." It's enough to make Quinn stop walking and turn to face her, so she counts it as a win, "It's like I was drowning and you saved me." She smiles ruefully at the blonde, shrugging her shoulders helplessly, "That's all I know."

There's a long silence. A long, and uncomfortable, silence.

Quinn doesn't quite know how to respond to that. It's a valid answer. Only Rachel could give a valid answer in the form of a metaphor. She knows Rachel meant it. It's evident in her eyes how earnestly she meant it. But…it doesn't change what she did. She's been lying to Quinn since the second they met, can she really forgive that? Regardless of how desperately she wants to.

"It's not enough." She hates how her voice cracks. She hates how she could barely get the words out. She hates what Rachel did. She hates that this conversation had to take place here – the trailer - the first place Quinn learnt to have faith in Rachel. All those weeks back when Rachel drove her out here and spilt her guts, and gave Quinn a reason to believe.

Except not only did Rachel fail to tell Quinn about Brody, but she told Quinn about everything _except_ Brody, and still she asked Quinn to have faith in her. And that night when Quinn took Rachel by the hand, that was her believing in Rachel, having faith in Rachel, _trusting_ Rachel in a way she hasn't allowed herself to trust _anyone_.

She really hates how the comfort and safety the trailer once offered her has been tarnished now-so she quickly jumps into her car again, speeding away from the trailer and away from Rachel without looking back.

_**Theory is, the more you think like a surgeon, the more you become one.**_

After seeing Rachel, Quinn heads to the same place she always goes when she needs to escape from her life. Dave's bar. It's much more crowded than usual, fill with interns and doctors alike, they're all cheering and toasting to Dave's recovery.

Quinn finds her spot at the bar, and soon empty shot glasses are lined in front of her all over again. She's still lost in through. So lost in thought she doesn't even notice at first when Santana walks in and takes the seat next to her. Quinn's jolted from her thoughts when someone appears next to her, from the corner of her eye she realizes its Santana. She doesn't speak.

_**The better you get at remaining neutral, clinical.**_

_**Cut, suture, close.**_

After a long silence between them, Santana gives in. She's never really needed friends before, but Quinn…Quinn is different. Quinn _gets_ her. She doesn't want to lose that. "The clinic has a policy. They wouldn't let me confirm my appointment unless I designated an emergency contact person. Someone to be there, just in case. And to help me home, you know, after. Anyway…I put your name down. That's why I told you I'm pregnant. You're my _person_."

"I am?"

Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn. She really hates spilling her guts. And she's somewhat grouchy when she reaffirms, "Yeah, you are. Whatever."

Quinn actually allows herself to smile a little, "Whatever."

It's quiet again between them as the bartender comes to refill Quinn's glass again. She's thankful for her friendship with Santana, she really is. She really appreciates how easily any wrongs between the pair are forgotten. Quinn wishes it was that easy with others. Her attention goes back to Santana when very, very quietly the brunette admits…

"He dumped me."

_**And the harder it becomes to turn it off, to stop thinking like a surgeon.**_

Quinn looks at Santana, like really looks at her. She realizes how alike they really are. Santana's good at putting her walls up too. But right now, she can see the tiny little kink in her armor. So slowly, really slowly Quinn reaches one arm around Santana, and lets her head rest atop of the brunette's shoulder.

Santana stiffens, she stays sitting still, and upright…almost rigid. "You realize this constitutes as hugging?"

"Shut up." Quinn mumbles, "I'm your person."

It's only then that Santana allows herself to relax, ever so gently resting her head on top of Quinn's.

_**And remember what it means to think like a human being.**_


	11. Enough is Enough

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!_

_I know it's been a long time, I got busy with moving countries, and starting a new job._

_I really am sorry though. Plus this is barely even proof-read, so all mistakes are my own._

* * *

_**I have an aunt who whenever she poured anything for you would say "Say when!"**_

She's just threw up. Like actually physically threw up. And not for the first time either. She's dressed in her ratty old Yale shirt she got way back in her freshman year, and a pair of sweats that have seen better days. But she's drunk….well she was drunk now she's just throwing up. But she doesn't really care how she looks right now, because she's….well drunk-_ish_. And angry. And drinking helps. Except now as she lies back on the bathroom floor, too scared to move away from the toilet bowl in case she needs it again, she can't help but have second thoughts about the amount of alcohol consumed.

"It's not us. It's them. Rachel and her stupid husband. And Martinez and his stupid…boy penis. They didn't tell me they had a husband. They gave absolutely no warning they were going to break up with you." Quinn mumbles out.

All of a sudden Santana slides the shower door open, to reveal herself laying in the tub, feeling just as glum as Quinn. "It's not that Martinez broke up with me. It's _how_ he broke up with me. Like it was business. Like it was a business transaction, like…like he's the boss of me."

"He is the boss of you." Quinn points out from her position flat on the floor.

"And what's worse? Is that I care."

They're both quiet for a moment, thinking about the mess their lives have dissolved into, when Quinn gets the queasy feeling again and manages to mumble a quick, "I'm gonna throw up again." As she crawls towards the toilet bowl, Santana quickly decides that she really doesn't need to watch, so she slides the shower door closed once more.

_**My aunt would say "Say when" and of course we never did.**_

Quinn hovers over the toilet bowl, bringing a hand up to hold back the loose hair that's fell from her ponytail, she hovers a few moments longer before realizing, "No wait, false alarm." She pulls away from the toilet bowl, sitting against the bathroom cabinet, just in case she needs to make a dive for the toilet once more. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to make the nausea pass.

Santana slides the shower door back once more, "The problem is estrogen."

"No" Quinn says, shaking her head, "The problem is tequila."

Santana continues, ignoring what Quinn said. "I used to be all business and then he goes and gets me pregnant."

"With the stupid boy penis." Quinn helpfully adds.

"I am having hormone surges. He ruined me. I'm ruined. He turned me into this fat, stupid pregnant girl. Who cares! Estrogen!"

Just before Quinn gets the chance to add her two cents, the bathroom door opens and Brittany and Sam walk in. Sam heads towards the sink in order to brush his teeth but Santana stops him on his way past, "Estrogen, Sam." Santana mumbles.

Sam looks down at her in the tub, looking confused at her sudden outburst, "Okay." but figuring it best not to question Santana while she's lying in the shower, turning to Brittany, "What is this?"

Brittany opens the bottle of water she brought with her and pours some water into a glass that Santana thrust out towards her. "I came home to full on vomit drama. Apparently she" Brittany motions to Quinn with her head, "Dumped Rachel and her..." She nods her head towards Santana, sounding totally scandalized, "She's been sleeping with Martinez!"

"I knew that." Sam mumbles. His confession ears him a glare from Brittany, since he never bothered to tell her what he knew, in order to avoid Brittany's wrath he's quick to turn to Quinn, still sitting on the floor to ask her, nonchalantly "So you really broke up with, Berry?" as he puts some toothpaste on his brush and begins brushing his teeth, awaiting her answer.

_**We don't say when because there's something about the possibility of more.**_

Except she doesn't answer, well she doesn't answer the question Sam had asked at least. "I feel empty." Quinn mumbles, to no one in particular.

"Two hours of vomiting will do that to you." Brittany quips as she joins Sam in brushing her teeth.

_**More tequila, more love, more anything, more is better.**_

Quinn shakes her head, before murmuring softly to herself, "No, I _feel _empty."

Santana fumbles around with her eyes still closed and blindly rubs the top of Quinn's head. "You're lucky. I feel pissed off." Pulling her hand back and sliding the shower door closed once again.

* * *

Quinn finally stopped throwing up. Brittany supplied her with some painkillers and water, which means she and Santana, managed to get up and dressed for work. They're both still hanging together when Brittany and Sam bundle them into the backseat of the Jeep.

And she's fine. She hasn't thought of Rachel in…well an hour at least. But then Brittany pulls into a space at the hospital, and Quinn makes the mistake of looking towards the hospitals main doors and everything comes crashing down again. All the pain. All the hurt. Because Rachel's right there, standing at the door, nervously wringing her hands together, in that adorable way she often does. Except Quinn can't think it's adorable anymore, because Rachel's married. To another person. A person she neglected to tell Quinn about.

As soon as Brittany brings the car to a stop Quinn jumps out. Slamming her car door shut harshly, and begins to storm towards the hospital, fully intent on ignoring Rachel's very existence.

Sam, Brittany and Santana get out of the car slowly after her, watching keenly when they also spot Rachel, standing waiting for Quinn. Quinn brushes right past her, but Rachel doesn't give in and follows her.

"Stop!" Quinn yells at the brunette.

"Stop what?" Rachel asks bewildered, since she hasn't even had the chance to open her mouth.

"You're stalking me. Stop it."

"Did we not communicate last night?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear what I was saying?"

"You're husband screwed your best friend." Quinn states matter of factly.

Rachel's kind of at a loss here, she just assumed Quinn would realize that she was the victim in all of this and forgive Rachel for lying. "And from that point on he no longer existed to me anymore."

"You have marital amnesia?"

"No. Come on I bared my soul to you last night." Because she genuinely did. She'd never told anyone what she'd told Quinn. A side from her dads obviously, but they don't really count

"It's not enough."

"How can that be not enough?" Rachel asks taken aback. She figured once she'd explained everything to Quinn that the blonde would forgive her. Yeah of course she feels bad about lying to Quinn all these months, but she spilled her guts eventually. In all honestly from Rachel's point of view, the second she'd caught Brody with Cassandra her marriage had been over. She ran away, meet someone new and her husband hadn't existed to her since.

Quinn's already thin patience finally cracks and she stops abruptly whirling around to face Rachel, "When you waited 3 months to tell me and I had to find out by him showing up all buff and charming and telling me himself." Santana walks past them and into the hospital, she really has enough on her own plate right now, plus it's Quinn's business, she knows the blonde can handle herself. Brittany and Sam however hold back and watch from afar, partly to support Quinn, mostly just because they're too nosey for their own good. "You like metaphors so much? Here's one for you. You pulled the plug. I'm a sink with an open drain; anything that you say just runs right out. There is no enough." She fumes, before storming off, leaving a despondent Rachel behind.

Brittany and Sam rush to catch up with Quinn, both brushing past Rachel without a word, "She probably could have picked a better metaphor." Sam whispers to Brittany.

"Give her a break" Brittany admonishes, elbowing Sam in the stomach, "she's got a hangover."

* * *

The ER is buzzing with activity; a multi-car collision means multiple injuries, and the chance for multiple surgeries. Except Quinn and Sam seem to have gotten the bum deal, since their patient was already dead on arrival. Beiste thought was adamant that they tried everything they could in order to try and revive him.

Beiste comes into check on them, deciding that both interns weren't needed in the room, she calls Quinn out and picks her to help with another patient. Quinn follows Beiste out of the room, and follows her into the main ER room and towards the patient.

"Was he in the accident?" Quinn asks Beiste confused, since the guy seems to be sitting up and talking, and not at all looking that he was in an accident.

"No. Bowel obstruction. He's not telling us what he ingested, but the films look like he's packing."

"Oh fun." Quinn murmurs sarcastically, although considering the car crash patient she and Sam had been working on didn't look much like he was going to survive she has at least a chance of scrubbing in on a surgery today by helping Dr. Beiste, "Can't people find a better way to move drugs?"

Her patient is a Mr. Hubble. A middle aged man, who seems quite quiet and docile and not at all the type of person Quinn would expect to be pushing drugs. Considering the ER was so overrun today Beiste had another intern jump onto the case with Quinn, so that she was free to see other patients, the other intern turned out to be Kurt.

They haven't spoken since Brody showed up unannounced and things between her and Rachel got….messy; the atmosphere turns awkward as soon as he appears, even though Quinn's stood about 5 feet away reading through Mr. Hubble's chart, or at least pretending too, while Beiste gives Kurt a quick rundown of the patient.

When Beiste's satisfied that Kurt is up to date on the case, she takes off – leaving Kurt and Quinn awkwardly hovering near each other. There's a stifling silence between them, which drags on a few moments longer – until Kurt finally snaps. "Quinn I am so sorry. I didn't know. If I had of known….I would have…well I probably wouldn't have told you myself, but I would have made Rachel be honest with you. And I certainly-"

"Kurt. It's fine. It isn't your fault. It's happened, and the truths out so just…let's just not talk about it anymore okay?" She's firm with her tone, giving Kurt no other option but to agree quickly with a nod of his head, and putting the subject of Rachel to bed.

They quickly get to work, getting Mr. Hubble ready for his X-ray. They slowly start wheeling him down the hallway. The poor guy looks fairly dumbfounded, as Quinn and Kurt try to nonchalantly question him about what drugs he's ingested.

"You know Mr. Hubble you might make things easier on yourself if you just tell us what you've ingested. We'll know anyway once we see your films." Quinn tries to reason with the patient.

He turns to Kurt, ignoring Quinn's inquiry. "You have the most beautiful features. They're delicate, almost porcelain."

Kurt looks like a deer caught in headlights for a few seconds, before remembering he's suppose to be a Doctor, and you know…professional. He schools his features quickly, and tries himself to reason with their patient. "Mr. Hubble, whatever you've ingested could kill you. Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's got your blocked up inside?"

Mr. Hubble looks to Quinn then back to Kurt. "It ah…might offend you."

"Is it drugs?" Kurt ventures.

"It's not drugs." Mr. Hubble shakes his head.

"Mr. Hubble…" Quinn states, her lack of trust in Mr. Hubble's answer apparent in her tone.

"I promise. It's not drugs."

The door of the elevator they've been waiting on opens, as Quinn and Kurt exchange a skeptical look, before Quinn placates the patient, while they wheel him into the elevator, "Okay. Good. I'm glad it's not drugs."

_It's drugs._

A little later, after they take Mr. Hubble back to his room – Quinn and Kurt head up to the Radiology desk to collect the scans. And the first thing the radiologist informs her is that yep, the scans show drugs.

"Looks like at least 10 balloons in his bowls." The Radiologist informs Quinn and Kurt as soon as they walk up to the Radiology desk.

Kurt takes a quick look at the films, before, asking the radiologists, "What do you expect?" As Quinn takes the films from his hands and holds one up to the light in order to see for herself.

The radiologists replies, "My guess, cocaine."

The two interns turn to look each other, sharing a look that suggests they both were expecting the films to show drugs, regardless of how adamant Mr. Hubble was about not packing. They head off to find Beiste in order to get her opinion on how to proceed.

They find her eventually in one of the side rooms, talking to Santana about her car crash patient

"It's drugs." Kurt informs Beiste as soon as they reach her.

"Stupid." She grumbles as she takes the x-rays from Kurt's hand and puts them up on the already lit screen. "Stupid, stupid. One burst and he's a dead man in 5 minutes. Okay what do we do?"

"Run his bowl." Quinn supplies straight away.

"And what does that mean?..." Beiste looks between the three interns standing in front of her, settling on one to answer her question, "Hummel."

"Ah...running the bowl entails removing all 36 feet of the intestine from the body cavity, hand search for the balloons and then cutting them out."

Beiste nods her head, satisfied with their answers, "Fabray, book an OR, and page Lopez. Hummel you're in. I need all the hands I can get.

Beiste, Quinn and Santana all turn to leave, but Kurt continues to stare at the x-rays...he moves closer, tilting his head to the side and scrutinizing the films. "Are you sure they're balloons?" he finally asks, just as the three women reach the door.

They all stop and Besite walks back towards the door, with Santana and Quinn following a few steos behind. "You have a reason to believe they're not balloons?"

Kurt points to the x-ray, "Well…This one has a face."

Beiste takes another look at the x-ray, reaching out to dim the lights of the view box further, causing more contrast and allowing for more detail to emerge.

"So does that one." Quinn points to another.

The four of them stand around the x-rays looking dumbfounded as they look at each balloon only to realize. "They all have faces." Santana voices for them.

"I'll be dammed. They're Judys." Beiste declares sounding dumbstruck. "Huh. He swallowed the heads of 10 Judy dolls."

"Ew" Kurt, Santana and Quinn grimace simultaneously.

* * *

2 hours later the interns all find themselves hanging around a nursing station. Santana's relaxing …and eating on one of the office chairs, with Kurt next to her reading over a chart. Quinn behind them is keeping herself busy, putting files away.

"My mother used to buy me Judy dolls. Manhattan Judy, Surfer Judy, Disco Judy." Santana muses around a mouthful of chocolate, as she leans back in her chair, with her legs crossed on the table.

"I always wanted one." Kurt signs wistfully.

"I dissected them." Santana offers, sounding relatively proud of herself. "Cut off their arms, shaved their heads."

"Sounds like there's a sick and twisted story behind this." Quinn teases.

"No they're sexists distorted devil toys..." Santana replies hotly, not noticing Beiste coming around the corner_. _"That creates unrealistic image expectations..." Kurt notices a grumpy looking Beiste approach, and sends Quinn a small wave as he runs off, leaving Santana to continue to vent"Carrying to the porn driven minds of men."

"You swallow a bitter pill this morning Lopez?" Santana jumps at the sound of Beiste's voice, quickly swinging her feet off the table, pretending to type on the laptop in front of her. "They're dolls Lopez, noting to get worked up over. Fabray, call for a psych consult. Let's see if he has family."

"Do I still book the OR?"

"Blocked bowels become necrotic bowels." Beiste replies by way of answering. "Check with Dr. Martinez. See if we can bump someone. Those Judy's' have to come out today."

* * *

Quinn finally manages to track down Dr. Martinez whose busy signing a stack of papers Emma has just handed him.

"Dr. Martinez." She starts, waiting until he looks up from the papers before continuing, "Dr. Beiste needs an OR and they're all booked."

He sighs heavily, looking exhausted already, "For?"

"An emerging bowl obstruction." She explains, handing him one of Mr. Hubble's x-ray films.

Martinez takes it and holds it up to the light to get a better look, "Drugs?" he asks.

"10 Judy doll heads." Quinn replies with a grimace.

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

Emma ducks in behind Martinez to take a look at the films too, "I can see their little faces." She puts on a high pitched voice, pretending to be one of the Judy dolls, "Help! Let me out."

Martinez quickly lowers the films, kind of freaked out by Emma's impersonation, and hands them back to Quinn, "Emma, could you bump Warner's hernia in 1. But…don't tell him what we're removing."

"Thank you." Quinn replies, she realizes she probably shouldn't be quite so polite to the guy who just dumped her best friend, but…well he is still her boss.

* * *

Sam and Suzie are finishing up their work with their car-crash patient from early, who sadly didn't make it. They've been working in silence -Sam finishing up the paperwork, while Suzie is removing the medical apparatus from the deceased.

"Any family members waiting?" Sam asks, just because the awkward silence is killing him.

"Still trying to reach them." Suzie replies.

"Good. I mean not good that we haven't reached the…good I don't have to…ah…"

His bumbling is interrupted by Suzie as she jumps in understandingly, "It's always hard."

"Yeah."

They're quiet again, for a few moments. Suzie standing by awkwardly, looking like she wants to say something, but Sam manages to completely avoid eye-contact with her and she manages to hold back. For a little while anyway before blurting out, "I'm sorry about Puck."

Sam stops for a moment. His grip tightening around the pen in his hand. "It's fine. It's good you know. No need to talk about it."

"You do understand that I had sex with him before you, not during?" She notices Sam's hand tighten even further, "Because when you and I were having sex-"

"I understand." Sam interrupts quickly, because seriously, he does not want to think about this anymore.

"I just wanted to clear the air."

"Oh, it's clear." Sam replies tightly, "Perfectly cle-"

"Okay." Suzie interrupts, realizing her mistake of bringing it all up. Except… "And about the syphilis-"

Sam stops her quickly, "We _really _don't have to talk about this."

"I just…I mean, I didn't know I had it. I should've, I'm a nurse. I mean there was the sore and I was all itchy-"

"Okay!" Sam backs away quickly, almost knocking down a tray next to him in his haste to get away, "You know, I uh, uh got it. You know things happen." He moves to the door – far away from Suzie.

Suzie stays rooted to the spot, looking to Sam apologetically, "They really do. Things you wish you could change."

"Yeah." Sam nods in agreement, searching for a way out of the situation. His beeper goes off and he scrambles quickly to read it. Almost sighing in relief when he reads it, "Oh, it's the Chief. I got to take this."

"Sure." Suzie replies, sounding slightly dejected.

* * *

The Psych consult finally showed up for Mr. Hubble. Sadly psyched sent down Jacob Ben Isreal. He spends half an hour chatting with Mr. Hubble, before coming out to discuss his findings with Beiste and the two interns on the case.

"He's not talking. It could be Pica. Doubtful for a man his age. Maybe an edible complex or an idolization of the doll as his partners." Kurt, Quinn and Beiste all give him a weird look and he quickly gets back on track, "Or it could be that he simply enjoys it."

"Now I've seen a lot of strange things in strange places but how does he enjoy this?" Beiste asks, completely confused.

"Well…" Jacob begins, "he'd enjoy it when they came out."

"I didn't need to hear that." Kurt mumbles, completely creeped out.

Brody walks up to the group, "Dr. Fabray, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Quinn's eyes widen and she turns to Dr. Beiste, who merely looks up from her patients file, "Don't look at me for help."

The blonde's mouth flaps open a few times, until she concedes defeat and approaches Brody reluctantly. The pair begins walking down the hallway next to one another in silence until Brody breaks it, "I assume she told you why she left me."

At this Quinn stops walking, sighing heavily as she does. She turns to Brody, looking annoyed, "Dr. Weston, with all due respect, this has nothing to do with me." She begins to walk off, anxious to get away from Brody, but sadly for Quinn he follows close behind, intrigued by her answer.

"Really? So you didn't take her back. Good girl."

Now Quinn's really riled up. Just from how condescending and well…_smug_ Brody's reply was. "In the future I'd appreciate if we could keep our relationship strictly professional." Quinn seethes, because really? This guy is an attending, surely he should know better, or be more professional.

Brody finally comes to a stop, but Quinn really wants away as quick as possible so she continues on a few steps, until Brody calls her name. Reluctantly Quinn turns to face him, and when she does she sees how serious he is when he says, "Quinn….sometimes people do desperate things to get someone's attention."

Quinn merely rolls her eyes at his excuse and walks away. Sleeping with your wife's best friend doesn't exactly seem like a cry for attention from Quinn's point of view.

"There are two sides to every story!" he calls after her.

Except she is barely listening, just walking as fast as she can to put as much distance between herself and Brody as possible. She turns into one of the research rooms, stopping by the door when she hears the familiar tone of Kurt's voice, while he speaks on his cell.

"What am I suppose to do now? I'm a surgical intern, I don't have time to go out and find another apartment." He's quiet for a moment, while the person on the other end of the line talks. "Well thanks, thanks a lot." Kurt mutters into the receiver sarcastically, lowering the phone and pushing the end call button slightly more harshly that really needed.

It's then he finally notices Quinn standing awkwardly, by the door with Mr. Hubble's consent forms in hand.

"Sorry" He apologizes quickly for having not noticed her until now. "Landlord problems." He explains.

"Sounds serious." Quinn asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

"There's been some kind of Health and Safety issue with my apartment. I have to move out immediately."

"Sucks."

"Yeah. Anyways I'll sort something out. Where are we with Mr. Hubble?"

"He's booked into the OR in 2 hours. We just have to do the pre-op tests and he should be good to go."

"Okay, well I'll go get started." He turns to leave, but Quinn calling his name causes him to turn back.

"So um…There's a spare room at my place. It's tiny, and we've mostly been using it as storage…but it's there, you know, if you need it or anything." She finished with a shrug. It's awkward, but it's an offer she feels she has to make. While she doesn't know Kurt all that well, she knows he came all the way from Ohio, alone, and finding a new place in the middle of Seattle isn't easy. Plus, from what she does know of Kurt, she likes, and if she can survive living with Sam and Brittany she's bound to be able to stick Kurt as well.

Kurt is stunned into silence for a minute, just staring at Quinn in shock. But he's quick to shake it off, rushing towards Quinn and evolving her into a tight embrace. "You're a life-saver, Quinn Fabray. Truly."

"It's nothing, really." She mumbles awkwardly, shrugging out of the embrace. "So um…if you could get started with Mr. Hubble I'm going to go grab some lunch."

* * *

The interns finally get to grab some lunch together, after a mostly hectic and frustrating day for them all. Santana, Brittany and Sam are walking through the outdoor café with their trays of food in hand. They approach the table where they usually congregate to eat, but stop short when they find a surprise waiting for them on their table.

"Oh! That is sick!" Sam grimaces as he takes in the 10 headless Judy dolls, arranged in a circle in the middle of their empty table.

"Who would do that?" Brittany asks sounding genuinely lost at the idea.

Quinn finally catches up with them, and they all turn as a group to find Puck sitting alone, behind them smiling smugly and their disgusted faces, he makes a gesture as if it say of course it was me.

"Oh." Santana murmurs, like they should have known all along. She picks up one of the Judy dolls. "Look see Judy fly." Throwing the headless doll at Puck who just ducks in time to avoid it.

Suzie walks past, stopping in Sam's eye line, smiling shyly as she mumbles a soft, "Hey Sam."

"Hey." Sam replies dismissively as he takes a seat at his table, without as much glancing at her, leaving Suzie to continue to her own table, looking dejected. Santana, Brittany and Quinn give each other confused looks and they all look at Sam questioningly, "What?" he asks them, when he finally notices them all staring at him.

"Sam. She was trying to make up with you. You should go eat with her." Quinn urges.

Sam picks up one of the headless Judy dolls and begins to play with it nervously, "No. No I shouldn't."

"She's cute and she likes you. You shouldn't let a little syph get in the way." Brittany chimes in.

"It's not they syph." Sam mumbles.

Santana takes this chance to make her voice heard, "It is _so_ they syph."

"It's not the syph!" Sam snaps at her.

"Then what is it?" Brittany asks innocently. Except Sam doesn't answer, instead he just looks down and avoids all eye contact with Brittany. She does however catch how Sam's eyes flick over to Quinn and everything snaps into place, "Oh."

"What?" Quinn asks confused by the whole conversation, looking to Sam who just shrugs. "What is it? Out with it."

"There's this other girl." Brittany spills quickly.

"Brittany!" Sam yells.

Leaving Santana utterly baffled by the prospect, "Other girl? You have another girl!?"

"He hasn't told her yet that he likes her." Brittany shrugs, quite content to spill all of Sam's secrets.

"Brittany! We are not in high school." Sam grumbles, side-eyeing Quinn again, who just looks completely confused by the conversation.

"Sam has a little crush." Brittany singsongs.

"I do not have a crush!" Sam's replies adamantly, still toying with the Judy doll. Santana laughs loudly, when she finally realizes who Sam's crush is on. While Quinn's looks at Sam intently as he continues, "It's a thing. A thing that is very personal. On day, I would like to build on this thing with this other girl. _Woman_. She's all woman."

Quinn reaches out, and snatches the Judy doll from Sam's grasp, slamming it down on the table, "What are you doing?" she demands harshly.

Sam looks half lost and half apologetic as he stumbles to reply, "I was playing with…"

Quinn interrupts. "No Sam with Suzie." She picks up the doll and starts pointing at Sam with it,"What are you doing with Suzie?"

"Oh. Nothing."

"You're letting her think you're emotionally available. You're letting her think she has a chance." Her voice rises as she points the headless doll towards Sam more threateningly, "And there is nothing worse in the world than thinking you have a chance when you really don't!" She slams down the Judy head, throwing one last ominous look towards Sam before leaning back in her chair, and stabbing the straw into her juice box with slightly more force than necessary.

At this point Santana pipes in, "Quinn is right. Tell her there's someone else. Tell her why Sam. I mean," She yells. "I mean at least give her a chance to have some feelings about it for god's sake!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" Sam asks shocked, in a hushed whisper- taking a quick look around in case all the other tables are listening in.

"Because of estrogen Sam! Because of all the estrogen!" She takes an angry bite from her salad, glaring at an extremely taken aback Sam as she does.

He looks again at Quinn who is still looking at him angrily too, before his eyes fall on Brittany who's just sat at the end of the table, smiling at the three of them, "So…new subject." Brittany ventures.

* * *

Quinn's wheeling Mr. Hubble down to the OR for his bowel obstruction surgery, "Was it an act of desperation?" She tries, because she really wants to know…she just can't get her head around why someone would willingly swallow 10 dolls heads.

"Not at all."

"Something to attract attention?" She tries again.

Mr. Hubble turns to her with raised eyebrows, as if she just asked the most ridiculously question he'd ever heard, "Of course not."

"I'm just trying to understand here, Mr. Hubble, why 10 doll heads?"

"Well….because 11 would have been too much." He answers simply. Leaving Quinn utterly baffled.

Luckily for Quinn though, the other interns, Santana, Kurt and Brittany…along with Beiste are just as baffled as Quinn is. And during Mr. Hubble's surgery they all readily discuss the reasons why someone would willingly swallow 10 dolls heads.

"I think it's something to do with his mother. Maybe she's always wanted a girl and gave him Judy dolls for his birthday presents." Kurt ventures by way of explaining why.

"Ah, I've got another one." Brittany exclaims, like it's a game and whoever finds the most wins a prize. She pops the head up closer to the intestinal wall.

Ugh." Quinn grimaces

"Drawing clamps to Lopez. Fabray, push the head up to the incision." Beiste orders.

Quinn begins to squeeze the doll head through the intestine towards the already made incision, while Santana places the clamps quickly, murmuring as she does, "Maybe his mother looked like Judy and he's into voodoo. Instead of sticking pins he…"

Before Santana can finish her sentence, Beiste pops a small black dolls head, complete with an afro from the incision. She holds it up in the clamps and inspects it closely, "Yep, Black Judy. What they gave her long hair back when she had the afro. She came with 'go-go' boots and a leather jacket." She puts the doll head into a large silver basin "It's a shame; it's a real collector's item."

"Collectable dolls with a twist." Brittany quips.

Santana looks across the table at Beiste, with raised eyebrows, "Seriously, you can identify these dolls by their _heads_?"

"You got a problem with that Lopez? I like Judy dolls. I own Judy dolls. The only problem I have with Judy dolls is that they are in the bowel of this man."

Just then Martinez enters the OR, holding a surgical mask over his face as he talks to Beiste, "Beiste, I need an intern in the ER to meet a harvest donor."

Dr. Beiste looks towards Brittany, "Pierce."

"See ya, Boo-boo." Santana teases Brittany as the blonde moves away from the operating table.

Sadly though the sound of her voice draws the attention of Martinez, she ducks her head quickly to avoid any contact with him as she asks Beiste, "You good here?"

"Couple more heads to go."

"In that case Lopez and Hummel scrub out. I need you for the transplant surgery."

Santana and Martinez share a look, and she tries hard to look like his presence isn't affecting her. He leaves the OR as swiftly as he entered, leaving Kurt and Santana no choice but to make a move to scrub out.

While they're leaving, Beiste removes another Judy doll head. "Ah yes. Mod Judy. Came with a yellow vesper. You know what's strange?"

Quinn quirks an eyebrow as she dryly states, "We haven't had enough strange?"

Ignoring Quinn, Beiste finishes, "She looks a little like you."

Quinn doesn't respond to that, because really, how can you?. Beiste dumps the dolls head into the silver basin along with the 8 other Judy doll heads they already fished out of the man_._

* * *

Sam's in the middle of collecting some lab results when Suzie approaches him, "We finally reached the family members of the dead motorists. Live in Portland. Should be here in a few hours. Want me to page you when they get here?" She informs him.

"Yeah." Sam answers quickly, Moving down the hallway "Do they know?"

She follows behind Sam. "Only that we were still working on him. I think it's always better to hear bad news firsthand." She sends a meaningful look Sam's way, and he quickly realizes that she isn't just talking about their patient's family anymore. "I know I'd like to talk to the doctor who called it. Get some answers. So I could get on with my life."

He opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off with the sound of his beeper, he reaches down quickly to read it, smiling apologetically to Suzie before rushing off.

* * *

Meanwhile Rachel's in an empty elevator, at the end of her shift checking her cell phone for the hundredth time that day, and finding the same thing she has every other time she's checked - _Nothing_.

She hasn't heard from Kurt since Beiste called him onto her service.

She hasn't heard from Quinn since…well since this morning. But she hasn't heard from a Quinn who isn't eternally pissed at her since before a certain someone showed up.

The elevator bings, and the doors slide open revealing a very smug looking Brody.

_Speak of the devil._

"Just when my day was improving." Rachel mumbles sarcastically.

"You told Quinn what happened?"

She slides her cell phone into her bag again, sending Brody a weird look as she moves to the opposite side of the elevator "I did. What did you tell her?"

The doors to the elevator shut as Brody speaks,"That sometimes people do desperate things to attract attention."

Rachel turns to him disbelievingly. "What!? Wow. That's your side of this? That I didn't pay you enough attention. Is that what you were thinking when you got naked with my best friend?"

Brody reaches over and hits the button of his floor on the elevator, "No, by that point I wasn't thinking at all, Rachel. By that point I was just scratching an itch." He replies harshly. Pausing and taking a deep breath to steady himself before continuing, "We got busy. You and me. I got successful, you got busy with school. We got busy and we got lazy. We didn't even bother to fight anymore, Rachel. And Cassandra…was there and I missed you. And now I'm sorry." Rachel reaches over and pushes her floor button again, hoping desperately to hurry the elevator up so she doesn't have to stay in Brody's presence any longer than necessary. "I'm more sorry that you can possibly imagine." The elevator dings again, and Rachel moves to rush out just as Brody finishes "But at least I'm talking to you about it." As soon as the doors open Rachel rushes out.

"Rachel?" Brody calls after her imploringly, hoping for some kind of response from her.

She doesn't even bother to turn around, just throwing "I'm a sink with an open drain, honey." Over her shoulder. Reciting Quinn's metaphor from earlier. Leaving a slightly confused Brody behind.

* * *

Sam's rushing around again, walking down the hallway on his way to the pit, when he rounds a corner and runs into Suzie. Like literally _runs_ into Suzie. Leaving her slightly flustered.

"Oh, um..." Suzie stutters, blushing already.

It's then Sam realizes that Quinn and Santana were right. Well mostly Quinn was right, he has to be honest with Suzie."Look, maybe I'm not over the Puck thing or the syph thing, yet." He starts off softly, "That...that's not really the problem..." He pauses, because he isn't quite sure if he should share this with Suzie. But at the same time he really wants her to understand, "There's a girl who I uh, and it doesn't matter she likes someone else, but ah...frankly I wouldn't care if she gave me the Ebola virus." Suzie smiles briefly. "I like you Suzie, I do, but...I just don't like you enough."

Suzie forces a pained smile as she nods her head in understanding. "I gave it a shot, right?" she shrugs. "And you were honest. That's good." She looks down; to try and hide the tears she can feel building.

Sam catches it though, and he feels really bad. He didn't mean to hurt anyone. When he first started to see Suzie it was when Quinn was with Rachel and he knew he didn't have a shot with her. But things have changed. Quinn isn't with Rachel anymore and maybe...just maybe he has a chance. Suzie just kind of got stuck in the crossfire, something he never wanted to happen. He moves in closer, cupping her face with his hand and places a lingering kiss to her forehead. Before pulling back and making his way to inform the family of their bad news.

* * *

Mr. Hubble made it through the surgery without any real trouble. And when Quinn makes her way to check on him he's already sitting up in his bed.

"Did you get them all?"

"Yeah. It wasn't easy. Or very pleasant." Quinn replies honestly, "How do you feel?"

"Empty. I feel empty now."

Quinn pauses and blinks slowly, because…"Yeah. I've been feeling a little bit of that myself lately."

Mr. Hubble's lips pull into a sad smile, "I can see that."

"Mr. Hubble, why does eating dolls heads fill you up? What's the satisfaction?" Quinn asks one more time, deciding that perhaps a direct approach may work best, considering he seems to understand her feelings.

"Do you really want to know?"

Quinn has to pause for a second because really? Does she want to know? "Would it be too much information?"

Mr. Hubble half shrugs "Might."

"Maybe I'm better left in the dark." She can't help but think that maybe….maybe if Brody didn't show up that night, maybe if she were still in the dark about Rachel's marriage, if her and Rachel were still together…then maybe, just maybe she wouldn't feel so empty right now.

_**There's something to be said about a glass half full.**_

_**About knowing when to say when.**_

_**I think it's a floating line. A barometer of need and desire.**_

_**It's entirely up to the individual. And depends on what's being poured.**_

_**Sometimes all we want is a taste. Other times, there's no such thing as enough. The glass is bottomless.**_

Quinn heads up to the observation gallery to fill in her post-op charts. And okay, maybe because she knows Rachel's helping out with the surgery that's currently underway. Because she may have told Rachel to stay away from her…but that doesn't stop Quinn from craving her company.

She reaches Mr. Hubble's chart and pauses. She thinks back to her chat with him, when she almost got her answer. But the thing is, maybe she didn't want to hear his reason in the end because maybe, well maybe it would hit to close to home for her.

Why did he eat the Judy dolls? Probably the same reason Quinn spent her night getting drunk on tequila. When we feel empty we turn to things that numb us from the world. Because sometimes, living with the ramifications of those things is easier than living with the emptiness.

But what if what you rely on, be it the Judy doll heads or the alcohol doesn't really make you feel better, and the emptiness is too scary to deal with, where on earth does that leave Quinn?

The answer: sitting alone in the observation gallery, stealing a few glances at an oblivious Rachel.

_**And all we want is more.**_


	12. Make me Lose Control

_Gosh, what a hard few days for the Gleeks. As fans of Faberry I'm sure most of us had little affection towards Finn Hudson. But I think we can all agree that Cory Monteith always came across as a genuinely nice guy, and his passing is a great loss, my thoughts are truly with all his friends and family. I really still can't quite believe it's true..._

_I've been in 2 minds all day about whether to post this update or not. But I decided in the end to go for it. I'm sorry though if anyone feels like I shouldn't have._

* * *

Everything's been crap. Just utterly crap the past few days. Not just for Quinn, but equally for Santana. They've both been sad and depressed because of stupid Rachel and stupid Martinez.

Quinn's usual go too solution to overcome the sadness would be to just drink away her problems, but Santana's pregnant, and even though she doesn't plan on keeping the baby, she's still got a Doctors brain and refuses to drink. Plus Quinn drank all the tequila from the house and is never out of work on time to go buy more.

Today though, today Quinn has a new plan to cheer herself and Santana up. She decides they should be proactive, to do something that will cheer both up.

Which is exactly when she finds herself at Santana's front door bright and early, dressed in figure hugging black shorts and an old, red cheer t-shirt from high school. She never exactly told Santana what her plan was when she text the brunette this morning, just that she should wear something comfortable.

So when Santana swings her door open to reveal herself in a pair of navy yoga pants, with her own high school cheer t-shirt. Both girls quirk an eyebrow at each other's choice of shirt.

"You were a cheerleader?" Quinn asks surprised.

"Yeah. So?" Santana asks defensively.

"I just…never pegged you for one."

Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn, "Funny. I always figured you were one." She shrugs. "Anyways what's this great plan of yours? I hope it involves disgusting amounts of cheap dinner coffee and pancakes."

"Actually….it's much better." Quinn smiles, disarmingly sweetly.

Half an hour and 3 miles later, Santana's planning 100 different ways to kill Quinn for this stupid idea.

Santana stops, bending at the waist to try and catch her breath, Quinn jogs on the stop in front of her, smiling cockily. "Oh you're stupid." Santana sneers, but when Quinn takes off jogging again, her competitive nature can't let up, "Oh God." She moans as she takes off after Quinn.

That doesn't stop her griping though, as she jogs alongside Quinn, clutching her side, "You're a stupid, evil, sadist and I want to _kill_ you."

"Endorphins are good. Endorphins are mood elevators. This is supposed to make us feel better." Quinn replies, sounding annoyingly positive.

"Oh God. Do you feel better?" Santana asks as she stumbles to a stop.

"I'm stupid." Quinn mumbles dejectedly as she jogs around in circles.

"Slutty Mistress."

"Pregnant whore."

"Sleeping with our colleagues was a _great_ idea."

Quinn finally stops jogging to catch her breath too, "And you know what's ruined for me?"

"What?" Santana asks, winching in pain as she does.

"Ferry boats." Quinn replies, as she begins to stretch out her muscles, "I used to love ferry boats and Rachel's got a thing for ferry boats. Now every time I see a frickin' ferry boat-" She's interrupted by Santana.

"You know what's ruined for me? Coronary artery by-pass grafts….and aortic aneurysms. God I use to love aortic aneurysms." Santana grumbles as she lies down on the grass.

"_**Surgeons are control freaks. With a scalpel in your hand, you feel unstoppable. There's no fear, there's no pain."**_

Quinn collapses down next to Santana on the ground. They both lie there for a few moments, catching their breaths, until Quinn finally breaks the silence. "Have you cried yet?" She asks turning to look at Santana.

"Hello?" Santana replies almost offended while gesturing at herself because, please - Santana Lopez M. D. does _not_ cry for _anyone_.

"_**You're ten feet tall and bulletproof."**_

They're silent again for another few moments. Santana turns her head to Quinn, "Do you think we'll feel better if we cry? You know like just let it out?"

"Probably, yeah." Quinn reasons. I mean it's what most women would do right? Cry out the hurt and carry on.

"_**And then you leave the OR."**_

Santana side-eyes Quinn, sounding unsure as she asks, "do you want to cry now?"

"No." Quinn replies quickly like it's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard.

"Okay. Let's just…jog…" Santana finishes, with no conviction, as they both just continue to lay on the ground.

"_**And all that perfection. All that beautiful control just falls to crap."**_

After their supposedly mood elevating jog this morning Quinn and Santana travel into work together. They get ready for work quickly and make their way to where a lost looking Sam is stood in the middle of the hallway, watching Brittany at the end of the hallway laughing and joking with Puck.

"What is she doing?" Santana asks exasperated a she comes to a stop next to Sam.

"She's hanging out with Puck…" Sam replies, although his tone gives away quite how disbelieving he is about the sight before him.

Santana rolls her eyes at the obvious answer, "Yeah. But why?"

"I dunno. I think….I think they might be friends." Sam replies, sounding as if he can't quite believe those words just left his mouth.

A little later as they trail behind Beiste on their way to rounds, Quinn, Santana and Sam manage to pry Brittany away from Puck to question what exactly she's thinking.

"You can't hang out with Puck. He's surgery stealing, syphilis spreading, vermin." Santana hisses from next to Brittany.

"You guys are wrong about him, alright? Once you get to know him he's actually pretty cool." Brittany explains.

"He's Puck." Sam responds as if that explains every reason why they should hate him.

"Puck _ass_." Santana chimes in.

"Hey Fabray!" Puck calls, looking over his shoulder, "Brittany was telling me you have tapes of your mom performing surgery. I'd kill to see _the_ Judy Fabray in action."

Santana sends a look Quinn's way as Brittany's face lights up. "Hey you know what? Maybe you can come over tonight and we can all watch together?" Brittany replies excitedly, turning to look at Quinn with a bright smile on her face, "Right?"

Santana and Sam both look to Brittany disbelievingly, while Quinn merely quirks an eyebrow and replies coolly, "Oh yeah, if this were a hell dimension."

"Yeah, run away pig boy." Santana sneers.

Sam comes to an abrupt stop in front of Brittany. "Do you have a thing for Puck?"

"What!? No!" she scrunches up her nose in disgust, "Gross."

Santana scrutinized her closely, "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I like him as a friend, okay? Nothing more." The three other interns all seem satisfied that she's telling the truth but are interrupted from discussing it any further by Beiste's voice.

"Are we saving lives or having a tea party? Walk faster people."

* * *

Considering the fallout from Brody showing up, Rachel still hasn't felt brave enough to change in the interns locker room, instead using one of the bathrooms and sneaking in when she knows Beiste intern group has left so she can place her stuff in her locker. She really has someone to thank for the fact Beiste always seems to be the first resident to begin rounds and that her resident, Dr. Tanaka is always one of the last.

Kurt waits for her as she puts her stuff away, exchanging their usual morning pleasantries as they make their way towards the elevators.

"So how's everything with your new house?" Rachel asks just as the elevator arrives.

"It's okay. My room is indeed tiny, and I can barely fit my clothes into it." Kurt answers, while he pushes the button for their floor, he sends a cheeky grin Rachel's way, "But our dear Dr. Evans does have a fondness of walking around with no-top on, which more than makes up for the lack of wardrobe space."

It earns a small laugh from Rachel. She's quiet for a few moments, wringing her hands together as she tries to ask nonchalant,"And um…how's Quinn…I mean how's living with Quinn?"

"Rachel." Kurt states warningly.

"Kurt please, I just want to know how she is, has she mentioned me at all?"

"Look, Rachel. I'm your friend. But I'm also Quinn's. She's done me a huge favor letting me stay with her; I'm not going to be a messenger for you."

Rachel clenches her eyes shut and breaths a frustrated breath through her nose, "I know, Kurt, I do. I'm sorry I asked...I just…."

He looks down at Rachel's dejected face and he just can't bring himself to leave her hanging. "I will say though, there has been an awful lot of tequila consumed…"

Rachel smiles sadly at Kurt, "Thanks. I just feel like the world's already against me, right now."

"Oh please, quit being so dramatic. The world isn't against you."

"If the world wasn't against me Satan wouldn't have been invited to Seattle."

"Satan?" Kurt asks confused.

The elevator bings, and as the doors slide open, Brody appears. "Good morning Kurt, Rachel" Brody greets with a smile.

"Satan speaks." Rachel quips and Kurt's eyebrows rise in realization.

"Actually I prefer to be called ruler of all that is evil." Brody jokes, causing Kurt to laugh. "But I do answer to Satan."

Rachel huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, "What is he still doing here?" she demands, to a bewildered Kurt; because really he's an intern how would he even know?

Brody rolls his eyes at Rachel's petulance, and answers her question himself, "Sue asked me to stay. There's a pediatric surgery attending on maternity leave."

"Wonderful." Rachel drawls sarcastically, storming out of the elevator as soon as it comes to a stop.

Leaving behind a gaping Kurt.

"That wasn't her stop was it?" Brody asks him with a smug smile.

Kurt doesn't reply verbally, just with a shake of his head.

It's about 30 seconds later before Rachel notices though, she comes to an abrupt stop and stomps her foot in anger, "Dammit!"

* * *

Meanwhile Santana and Quinn drag behind Beiste during rounds, whispering to each other after an awkward encounter with Martinez.

"I know. I just think you should tell him about the baby because he should at least have the responsibility of having to pay." Quinn whispers to Santana as the make their way down the hallway behind Beiste.

"No!" Santana whispers harshly, "You know what? He'll never know. It's over. Once the pregnancy is taken care of, Martinez won't even be a blip on my radar. He'll be a smudge."

"Right." Quinn drawls sarcastically.

Santana's head turns to Quinn and she narrows her eyes at the blonde as she hisses, "You know, Quinn, leave the sarcasm up to me….it really doesn't suit you."

* * *

After a disastrous presenting of a patient case by Puck, Brittany is furious with him, as the interns leave the patients room, Santana runs off quickly to try and troll for cases, while Sam and Quinn head to the nearest vending machine to grab some snacks.

Puck plans to head towards the nurses' station, but a stormy looking Brittany in his path. "Why do you do that?" Brittany fumes.

"Do what?" Puck asks perplexed.

"Act like an ass when everyone but me is around. They hate you enough as it is."

Puck shrugs, "So?..." Brittany still stands in his path, looking annoyed. "_What?_"

Brittany's stopped from answering when Beiste appears from around the corner, yelling to the interns, "Hey there's a new surgical case coming up from the pit. Likely diverticulitis. Let's go."

Brittany, Puck and Sam all followed being hurriedly, leaving Quinn to trail behind as she grabs her chips from the vending machine. She's only a few seconds behind and she rushes to catch up when a loud, familiar woman's voice stops Quinn in her tracks. "Watch it! Hands off me! I could report you to the chief and you'd be out on your ass."

She slows her pace, knowing that the voice is familiar, but not quite believing it to be true. She starts walking slowly towards where the others are around the corner.

"Where is the Chief!?" The woman shouts from her bed, straining against the nurses who are trying to calm her down.

It's then the Quinn finally realizes her fears are confirmed as her mother is wheeled into the surgical floor surrounded by her fellow interns and Beiste. She stops in her tracks and just stares in shock as Santana begins to read out the patient's chart.

"Patient's name is…ah…" Santana stops abruptly when she reads the name, she stumbles briefly before emitting the name and moving onto the patients symptoms. "…complaining of intermittent cramping pain and diarrhea. Also suffers from…ah…" as she takes in the next word on the chart her eyes flick up and finally land on an utterly lost looking Quinn.

Quinn continues to stand stock still staring with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Her eyes connect with Santana's; who still isn't sure if she should finish her sentence, as Quinn begins to back away slowly.

"You are all amateurs!" Judy Fabray shouts.

"Alzheimer's." Santana finally finishes weakly, sounding about as shocked as Quinn looks.

"Patients name?" Beiste requests. Except Santana doesn't answer "Lopez! Patient's name?" she barks impatiently.

Before Santana gets the chance to answer Judy spots Quinn cowering by the corner, "What the hell are you doing here?" she spits with venom.

It's that. That look, that recognition from her mother that finally pushes Quinn out of her stupor, allowing her to scurry off and hide behind an office corner, peeking her head out as Judy continues to yell, "Haven't I told you!? How many times have I told you not to bother me when I'm at work!?"

Dr. Besite and the other interns; minus Santana, all turn to Quinn each with their own confused looks, except Quinn doesn't hang around long enough to see, as she runs off to hide.

"Judy Fabray." Santana finally finishes, figuring the cats already out of the bag.

"Quinn's mother?" Sam whispers in disbelief.

* * *

The first place Quinn stumbled upon was the intern locker room. She can hear Brittany, Puck, Santana and Sam all outside, shouting various statements of support. She also hears Beiste trying to shut them up, and realizes she must be blocking the other interns from entering. Which Quinn begrudgingly thinks to thank her for at a later date. She clenches her eyes shut, resting her head against the wall behind her, hoping and praying that she'll wake up soon and this will all have been an awful nightmare.

Things are quite for a second outside the door, and Quinn is just about to hope that everyone's actually gone and left her alone, but then she hears Sam yell, "Quinn are you okay?"

Beiste quickly places her hand over his mouth, "Just zip." She hands a chart off to Puck. "Dr. Puckerman stick with the ETS case. And Puck? Her blushing impulse is not a toy for you to play with, or a button for you to push. Understood?"

While Beiste's busy with Puck, Santana takes the chance to try her best at being understanding, and sincere, calling out, "Hey Quinn, you know um…my great grandmother, she died with Alzheimer's." and fails.

Beiste stops talking abruptly as she and the other 3 interns all turn to stare at Santana, "My god. Why would you say that?" Brittany asks appalled.

"I'm just trying to help." Santana shrugs sheepishly.

Beiste is just about exasperated with these people, as she tries to keep some semblance of control, "Brittany, Dr. Weston needs another intern up in the NICU."

"Wait, isn't Rachel already his intern for the day?" Beiste sends Brittany a look which pretty much confirms her statement, "You want me to go work with both of them?...Together….them…and me, by myself, with the two married people who hate each other?"

"Go." Beiste replies wearily because god these interns are exhausting.

Reluctantly Brittany spins on her heel and makes her way up to the NICU. Beiste then turns to Santana, "Santana, you're on the thoracotomy."

"With Martinez? Oh can I have the hateful married couple instead?"

"Okay, I'm sorry I thought I was your resident not your hostess. I assign. You take. Is that a problem?"

"N-N-No" Santana manages to stutter out.

"Is there some reason why it's inconvenient for you to spent the day in the OR learning from Dr. Martinez?"

"No. I'm very happy to be working with Dr. Martinez. Thank you very much." Santana rushes out quickly before dashing off.

Finally Beiste turns to the last remaining intern currently bugging her, "Sam, take care of Dr. Fabray."

"Yes. Thank you." Sam exhales, moving in to hug Dr. Beiste, who stands there stiff and confused. "She needs a friend right now." He finishes as he tries to move around Beiste in order to enter the locker room. But Beiste throws her arms against the door way to stop him from entering.

"What?" Beiste demands.

Sam quickly realizes his mistake, "oh…you mean Judy the…mother."

As Sam wanders off, not quite sure where to go. Dr. Beiste finally gets the chance to enter the locker room to check on Quinn. She shuts the door behind her just as Quinn comes out from her hiding spot behind a set of lockers.

"Are you able to work today?" Beiste asks gently, but without any pity in her voice, she's pretty sure Quinn wouldn't appreciate that.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Cause I would understand it if you wanted to be with your…"

"No." Quinn interrupts, "my mother and I don't have the easiest…it's just better if I'm working."

Beiste nods her head in understanding. "Okay. You're on scut."

"Excuse me?"

"While we take care of your mother, you can catch up on charting, run samples to the lab, go over…"

Quinn cuts her off, "I told you, I'm fine."

"Yeah and I appreciate that you're fine. But I have to anticipate a certain level of distraction from you today. Even in the face of all the fineness. So scut. Now!" Beiste demands, Quinn narrows her eyes at the taller woman, but decides against challenging her and instead just does as she's told.

* * *

Brittany literally takes as long as she possibly can to make it to the Natal intensive Care Unit. When she gets there it's just Rachel who fills her in on what they should be doing today. But then Dr. Weston finally appears, Rachel having called him to come and look over a case for her.

"Where's the mother?" Brody asks Rachel, as he tries to get caught up with all his new cases, even though he's taken a special interest in this one since it was Rachel who brought it too his attention.

"Gone." Rachel replies simply, before continuing, "She stuck around long enough to get the kid strung out and then took off. Nice, huh?"

"Rachel" Brody sighs frustrated, having read over the baby's case.

"Brody I know it's a long shot. I know that."

"You told me you had a newborn with an invasive mass. You forgot to mention she's premature, underweight and addicted to narcotics. Do you really think she's going to survive spinal surgery?"

"You don't know that she won't."

"And if she does, she's a mess. She'll end up having meningitis seizures. She's going to live a very short, very painful life."

"You don't know that." Rachel argues.

"It's my job to know that."

"You're not God, Brody."

"Excuse me? I never said I was honey, but this patient has little chance at survival-"

"Wait did you just call me honey?" Rachel interrupts, "Don't call me honey!"

Brittany, who's still stood awkwardly behind the two arguing spouse begins feeling slightly uncomfortable with this turn in conversation, and tries to look anywhere but at Rachel and Brody.

"Fine I'm not god, Dr. _Berry_. But as I was saying, as the covering pediatric surgery attending it's my responsibility to ensure all our resources are wisely used."

"Don't you dare talk to be about responsibly." Rachel scoffs.

"Rachel, I messed up. People mess up." Brody replies, knowing the conversation their having has little to do with the patient and all about their lives in New York.

"You slept with my best friend on my favorite sheets."

"The Italian sheets?" Brody asks, "You hate the Italian sheets."

"_No,_ I love the sheets."

"You liked the flannel sheets."

"Would you just stop talking about sheets?" Rachel asks exasperated.

Brittany really can't take it anymore and risks her life by interrupting, surprising both Rachel and Brody who'd forgotten she was there. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just going to go. I'll um go…check on the labs." She finishes before leaving as quickly as humanly possible.

"Rachel don't do this."

"Brody…she's a fighter. Look how far she's come already."

"Don't get attached" Brody warns. "Don't get involved. Just…don't make her life more painful than it already is."

"Brody _please_, she has nobody. She needs someone to fight for her."

"She's too far gone. Just let her go in peace." Brody pleads

"Fine." Rachel spits petulantly before storming out of the room.

Brody watches her leave, whispering to himself "Fine Rachel, walk away. It's what you do best."

* * *

After getting over the shock of her mother's arrival at the hospital this morning, it quickly dawns on Quinn that she never told Sue about her mother's condition. Considering they had been such good friends during their internship, Quinn realizes she should probably let the Chief know in person, and avoid risking her finding out from someone else. She gets hold of her mother's file easily, with only a little bit of intimidation towards one of the nurses, and takes it towards the Chief's office.

The door's open when she arrives, but she knocks anyways to avoid startling the Chief, who has her back to Quinn, at the sound of the knock Sue turns around quickly, and waves Quinn into her office.

"Welcome back Chief." Quinn greets politely with a smile.

"It's good to be back, Dr. Fabray." Sue smiles fondly at Quinn. "What can I do for you?"

Quinn's smile dims a little, "It's my mother, Ma'am." She answers, swallowing thickly as she hands her mother's chart off to the Chief.

Sue begins to flip through it, as Quinn takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of the Chief's desk. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I know you two were close." The chief finally reads the most telling part of Judy Fabray's chart and she slowly sinks into her chair in shock as Quinn continues, "But she made me promise. She seems to be reliving the heyday of her residency a lot these days. And I just thought maybe if you could stop by and say hello, it would mean a lot to her."

"Of course." Sue replies after a moment, she scrutinizes Quinn for a second, "Do you need a day off?"

"Oh no. I'm fine." Quinn replies quickly, and not quiet with the conviction she intended.

Sue narrows her eyes at Quinn and studies her, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Quinn replies again, spinning around and leaving the office, just in case Sue can spot the kink in her armor.

* * *

Sam meanwhile is busy trying, and failing to give Judy Fabray her physical exam, as she continually shrugs him off and turns away from him.

"Um…if you could just hold still." Sam pleads, as he tries in vain to press the stethoscope to her back, but again Judy shrugs out of his grasp, and grabs her chart that Sam ad left sitting on bed next to her.

"I'm in the middle of my work day, Russ."

"Russ? No I'm Dr. Evans." Sam explains, trying to gently take the chart from Judy again. Resulting in them wrestling for it until Judy eventually yanks it hard out of Sam's hands "Okay" Sam sighs in defeat, deciding to move around the bed and try something else. "I just need to check your…"

"Darling I'm not in the mood to play Doctor now. Hands off, I'm busy." Judy argues as she studies the chart in front of her.

Quinn comes to stand by the door way, hiding slightly out of view from the room, "Sam." She whispers loudly, hoping to get his attention, without alerting her mother to her presence.

Except Sam didn't hear her and is still trying to examine Judy Fabray. "Damn it Russell, I mean it, no."

"Sam." Quinn tries again, slightly louder this time and is relieved when he finally looks up at catches her eye.

He leaves the room quickly, slightly relieved to have a reprieve from carrying out Quinn's mothers physical examine.

When he's standing in front of Quinn she looks at him like she isn't really sure what she should say, and finally comes out with, "She's allergic to penicillin."

"Yeah?" Sam replies, looking at her quizzically, "Oh yeah it said on her chart."

"Oh…you just have to be patient."

"Okay." Sam nods. Do you um…who's Russ?"

There's a long pause, and Quinn looks slightly taken aback by Sam's question."My father." Quinn eventually answers. "Russell…what did she….is she…is she talking about him?"

"Um…yeah. She's…"

"She never talks about him."

"You're, you alright?"

"No. Yeah, yeah. I'm good."

"Good." Sam murmurs.

"Um. I can't be here."

"Of course. I mean we're good here, we're great, so…"

"Okay."

"Okay." Sam replies, waiting a few moments for Quinn to leave, except she makes no attempt to, so he in the end heads back to her mother's room to try again at carrying out the physical exam.

Quinn hangs around a moment or too longer, unsure what exactly to do with herself, she peeks her head into the room briefly, before leaning back against an adjacent wall and tries to come up with a solution.

The solution comes quicker than she expected when she see's Rachel enter the nurses station and begin going through some files. Rachel is literally one of the last people Quinn wants to talk to right now, (well that's not entirely true because really, all Quinn wants is to be in Rachel's arms and soak in the comfort and security Rachel's always seem to be able to bring her. Except she _can't _want that right now, she's so blindingly angry at Rachel for lying that she refuses to acknowledge the part of her that wants the brunette's touch.) There is however something else Rachel can offer, on a more professional level that could help Quinn.

Which is how she finds herself approaching the brunette, "Dr. Berry?" Quinn states calmly.

Rachel's head snaps up instantly to the sound of Quinn's voice. Her widened eyes giving away her surprise at Quinn actually acknowledging her, before turning quickly to a look of concern. "Quinn. I heard. Is it true?"

"Yeah…Secret's out." Quinn replies up a small wry smile.

Rachel's face morphs to one of completely sympathy as she sighs, "oh."

"Dr. Berry, I -"

"You don't have to call me Dr. Berry." Rachel cuts her off, with small smile.

"Dr. Berry." Quinn replies adamantly. "I need in on a surgical case. I can't just do nothing all day. You have Scheuster practically wrapped around your little finger and" Quinn sighs heavily, "And you owe me this. You have to get me onto a case. I've never asked for anything like this, so…"

"Schuester has an ETS this afternoon. I'll get you in on the surgery." Rachel replies almost instantly. Frankly she'd do anything right about now that involves helping Quinn, even if it means giving up her own spot on the surgical team.

Quinn's pride doesn't allow her to say thank-you. Instead she sends a tight smile Rachel's way and leaves as soon as she can.

* * *

Back in the NICU, after having collected the lab results Brittany walks back into the room she'd quickly vacated early to find Dr. Weston watching over the premature baby whose tiny hand is gripping onto his little finger.

"She's got a good grip." Brittany muses. Brody doesn't answer just looks up from the incubator and smiles at Brittany. "I don't think…" She shakes her head and hands the chart to Brody so he can see for himself, "It doesn't look good."

"She's got a resistant strain of pneumococcus. The antibiotics aren't working." He looks over at Brittany noting the slightly hopeful look in her eye. "You may want to get yourself reassigned Dr. Pierce. We won't be operating today."

"So you don't think Rac…I mean Dr. Berry has a point?" Brittany tries; she can't help but be optimistic about this.

Brody shakes his head sadly, "She's just too far gone…she does have a good grip though."

* * *

Santana's day hasn't been going so well. She's stuck observing a surgery being carried out with her ex-boyfriend. On top of that she's been exhausted and can't seem to stop sweating ever since Quinn took her on that damn run this morning. She tries to concentrate on the surgery, she really does, but she's having a hard time even concentrating on standing right now. Except she vaguely hears her name being mentioned from somewhere in the room, it isn't until it's shouted by Martinez that she finally snaps out of her daze, "What, sorry?"

"Is my surgery interrupting your day dreaming?" Martinez asks cooly.

Santana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose, trying to center herself. "No. Sorry."

Up in the viewing room, where a couple of other doctors are watching the surgery, including Dr. Beiste, Brittany walks into the room, and takes a seat next to her resident with a hefty sigh.

Beiste looks to her left at the blonde, "You have a problem?"

"No."

"You have a mocha latte?"

"No." Brittany replies confused.

Beiste looks at her seriously, "Then go away."

Brittany pauses a moment, she can't work out if Beiste is being serious or joking. So she settles on taking it as a joke and smiles at resident "Actually I need a new assignment. Dr. Weston's preemie case isn't surgical."

"Sucks."

"Yeah." Brittany replies suddenly down hearted.

They're quiet for a while, Besite breaks the silence by asking, "Did you know about Judy Fabray? Did Quinn tell you?"

"No." Brittany replies annoyed. "It's just that you think…you think you know someone. You know who they are. You share a house. Make wishes on eyelashes with them….we don't know each other. None of us, we're just a bunch of interns who work together. There's nothing there." She's too caught up in her little rant to realize Beiste stopped listening.

Back down in the OR, Martinez is still aware that Santana isn't giving this surgery the usual attention she gives to ever other. He puts it down to her being angry at him for breaking up with her. "There is an arrhythmia when I press down on the tumor. That is a sign of what, Lopez?"

Everything's kind of fuzzy to Santana, all…out of focus. "Umm…ah it's a sign of…it's a sign…it's a sign that the uh…tumor has infiltrated the pericardium."

"Possibilities?"

"In all…I'm sorry. I…" she trails off because yeah…now everything's just….muffled and blurry.

"Do your homework Lopez. It could be causing a tear in the aortic muscle of the heart." Martinez snaps.

Except Santana doesn't hear any of it, she sways dangerously forward trying to grab onto the closest sturdy object next to her…which happens to be another intern. But it's not enough to keep her upright. Her legs give out and she collapses to the floor.

"Santana…Santana?" Martinez yells helplessly from across the surgical table.

Dr. Beiste and Brittany are both on their feet quickly rushing down into the OR to help. While the other doctors on the room help to lay Santana on her back. Martinez moves around closer to Santana, unable to help since he's still sterile from the surgery he's in the middle of performing.

"Somebody help her!" he barks at the others. Just as Beiste and Brittany make their way into the OR placing their masks on while another doctor rushes off to get a gurney.

"Santana?" Brittany is quick to ask as she kneels next to Santana on the floor, hoping for some kind of response.

"We've got it Dr. Martinez." Besite informs him as she places an oxygen mask on Santana. She turns all her focus onto her brunette intern, "Santana? What hurts?" except Santana is fully unconscious now and can't respond "Let's get her out of here. There's a patient on the table. Lift."

They manage to lift Santana onto the waiting gurney and begin pushing her out of the OR when Dr. Martinez asks with some concerne, "Dr. Beiste when you get her stabilized, I want a report please." Except Beiste doesn't respond, too focused on Santana. "Dr. Beiste!?"

"Fine, Dr. Martinez."

They push her down the hallway, towards the elevator to take her to the emergency room, Dr. Besite checking her pulse as they move, "Her pulse is racing. I need her on a monitor to get a BP. Also I want to start her on a liter of LR wide open, Brittany run ahead to emergency and let them know we're on our way."

Santana manages to regain some conscious thanks to the oxygen mask, and she struggles, weakly, trying to pull it from her face to speak. Brittany notices quickly and removes the mask for her. She leans in slightly closer to Santana, keeping her voice soft, "What?"

"Seven weeks" Santana replies breathlessly, "I'm pregnant Brittany, I'm pregnant."

Brittany and Dr. Beiste both stop to stare at each other in shock just as the elevator arrives. Dr. Besite turns to the doctor on her left, "Uh, okay no. We're going to pre-op instead." She then focuses her attention on Brittany, "Find Brody Weston." Brittany makes a move to leave but Beiste's voice draws her back, "Brittany, be discreet."

Even as the elevator doors close, Brittany's still stood with her mouth gaping.

* * *

After having to give up on the premature baby case, Brody realizes he's got nothing to stay in Seattle for. He tracks down the Chief as she walks in the hallway.

"So, I'm leaving in the morning." Brody informs Sue.

She turns to smile at him, "No."

"Excuse me?"

"No. I'm not accepting your resignation."

"It's not a resignation, Sue." Brody replies confused. "It's notification. I don't officially work for you. I came here for one case. And I can track the twin's progress from New York."

"What about the preemie?"

"The preemie doesn't stand a chance. You know that"

"And what about your wife?" Sue asks out of nowhere.

The sudden change in topic throws Brody for a second, but he's quick to recover"….She calls me Satan, Sue."

"Do you usually hide from a fight?" Sue challenges.

Brody doesn't get a chance to answer because Sam appears and lurks close enough to annoy the Chief. "What is it Evans?"

"It's Dr. Fabray, Ma'am. Judy. CT confirmed diverticulitis but a liver mass was also found."

"My god." Sue sighs.

"Poor Quinn. As if her mother having Alzheimer's isn't bad enough now she has to deal with liver cancer." Sam replies.

"You won't know that it is cancer until you do a biopsy, Evans." Sue points out, daring to be hopeful for her friend.

Brittany appears from around the corner, sighing in relief when she spots Brody and then despair when she notes the Chief standing right next to him.

"Um, excuse me, Dr. Weston? We need you fast." Brittany asks quietly, "um…it's Santana, one of our interns. She's…" She trails off since she doesn't want to divulge Santana's secrets to the chief, so she settles for, "She's collapsed."

"Santana's collapsed?" Sam asks worried.

"Why do you need me?" Brody replies, confused.

Brittany's mouth flaps open as she tries to come up with an excuse, but as she struggles, comprehensions dawns on first Sue's the Brody's faces. It takes Sam a little longer but finally he realizes and –"Santana's pregnant!?"

"Shut up, Sam!" Brittany whispers harshly, shocking Sam into silence. She looks towards Brody, "Please come." she pleads.

He nods his head in affirmation, and moves to follow Brittany to where Santana is, calling over his shoulder, "This doesn't change anything, Sue. I'm still leaving in the morning."

"This is a very, very bad day." Sam mumbles.

* * *

Meanwhile Quinn's finally got to scrub in on the ETS case that Rachel got her in on. It's actually from Puck, who's also on the case that she finds out that Rachel gave up her spot just for Quinn. It warms her heart a little to know the brunette would do that for her. But then she reminds herself that Rachel's a liar and…well suddenly she doesn't feel so warm anymore.

They're about half-way through the surgery, Schuester's asking them the usual questions, "Okay Dr. Puckerman can you tell me the-"

Sue enters the OR before he can finish his sentence, "It's time to clear me for surgery Schuester."

"What?" Schuester asks in disbelief

"I know you heard me. I'm standing right here."

"Chief, I'm a little busy. We'll talk about it later."

Sue enters the OR holding a mask against her face, "Just give me a verbal okay and we can do the paperwork later."

"I can't do that."

"I am your chief of surgery. This is not a request." Sue replies sternly.

"With all due respect, Ma'am in this situation I am not your subordinate. I'm your doctor. One week after brain surgery, you are not ready to resume medical practice."

Sue moves closer, giving a quick glance to Quinn standing by Schuester, telling him quietly in his ear, "It's a simple procedure. A needle biopsy. A resident could do it."

"So let a resident do it. What am I missing here?" Schuester asks perplexed.

Quinn notices how shifty the Chief is acting with her and it clicks, "It's for my mother isn't it? You think she has cancer?"

Sue doesn't outwardly acknowledge Quinn's question. "Sam needs your signature."

Quinn nods her head in understanding, she looks towards Dr. Schue, not wanting to just abandon his surgery, and when he nods his consent she leaves the OR.

She's pulling her mask off as she exits the OR, running straight into Sam "What's her total bile?" Quinn asks quietly, taking the clipboard from Sam's hands and signing the paperwork.

"It's actually only 4." Sam responds upbeat, "it's not great but it's not terrible." He finishes, taking back the forms Quinn just signed.

"That's why I didn't see the jaundice." She sighs, feeling guilty that she hadn't noticed.

Sam smiles sympathetically, but avoids looking Quinn in the eye. "No one could we just have to wait and see."

Quinn narrows her eyes and studies Sam, who seems to be acting very bumbling….well more so than usual. "What aren't you telling me?" She assumes its more bad news about her mother. So when Sam speaks her whole world stops.

"It's Santana."

* * *

Santana's still floating in and out of consciousness when Brody begins the ultrasound. "Have you notified the father?" Brody asks.

She doesn't responds though, struggling enough on just focusing to breath. It doesn't even dawn on her that the slow steady brush she feels against her hair is actually Dr. Beiste, standing behind her bed trying to keep her calm.

"Santana? Santana? Is there anyone we can call?" Beiste tries, but again there's no response, as Santana continues to gasp slightly, "We're losing her."

Brody points to the screen showing the ultrasound to Dr. Beiste "Oh man. Do you see that? It's an extra uterine pregnancy in the tube there. She's bleeding out."

It's the last thing Santana remembers vaguely hearing before she slips into unconsciousness.

She's rushed to the OR immediately. The journey there is pretty much a blur for Brittany, but next thing she knows, she's scrubbed in and standing next to Dr. Weston as he begins the surgery.

"She's going to be okay, right?" A truly worried Brittany asks from Brody's side.

"How attached was she to this pregnancy?" Brody asks her instead of answering.

"I don't know." Brittany shrugs, sounding slightly bitter when she adds "She's a pretty private person."

He looks up at Brittany, his voice taking on a calming tone, and his eyes gentle "She's lost a lot of blood, but I've got it from here." He switches all his attention back onto the surgery at hand. "Dr. Beiste, you must have a surgery or two of your own today."

"I'm fine right here." She murmurs through her mask, from her place at Santana's head where she's lightly stroking Santana's cheeks with her thumbs.

* * *

The news of Santana being rushed to surgery spreads pretty quickly though the hospital, as soon as Rachel hears about I, her first thoughts went to Quinn.

She knows Quinn's suppose to be in surgery with Dr. Schue, so she rushes down to the scrub room, to wait for her and check first hand that she's okay, and maybe to offer some comfort.

"Can you do the follow up? I need to check on Santana." Quinn asks Puck as she makes her way over to the sink, planning on just ignoring Rachel.

"Yeah, of course. You know what's wrong with her?" He asks sounding mildly concerned.

As Quinn makes her way past Rachel, the brunette stops her and tries to offer some comfort by wrapping her arms around the blonde.

"Don't!" Quinn spits out through gritted teeth, backing out of Rachel's grasp.

"I'm Sorry." Rachel apologizes, yet again.

"Don't be sorry. I'm so tired of you being sorry."

Which kind of pisses Rachel off, considering Quinn won't listen to anything else she has to say, so she can only apologize. Plus Puck is standing right there and she know Quinn doesn't need him spreading around gossip "Dr.-"

"Don't do it." Quinn cuts her off harshly.

"Dr. Fabray."

"Dr. Fabray. Seriously? Are you that concerned about Puck finding out about us? Is that what matters to you? Do you think he really cares?" Quinn turns to a slightly bemused looking Puck, asking him loudly, "Puck do you care that I was stupid enough to screw a married woman?"

"Hell no." Puck replies with a leer.

Quinn sends a pointed look Rachel's way.

"It's okay." Rachel tries. All she wanted to do since this morning is comfort Quinn,

"It's not okay!" Quinn yells. "You have a husband, who's not easy to hate. Who's annoyingly kind of painfully smart, not to mention currently saving my friends life."

Rachel tries to keep calm, whispering speaking softly, "Quinn just-"

"Don't! Just…stop talking to me like you're my girlfriend. Stop talking to me at all!" Quinn demands before storming out of the room.

"Dude that was rough." Puck chimes in form behind Rachel, who had actually forgotten he was even there in the first place.

Rachel whirls around to him, ready to tear him a new one for being an ass, but when she turns to look at him she sees his sad smile, and understanding eyes and realizes he isn't trying to be an ass, that actually this is kind of Puck's way of being supportive.

* * *

Everything just seems to be spiraling out of Quinn's control today and she hates it. She hates that her secret, the secret she's been busting her ass off to keep is suddenly out in the open. She hates the fact her mother's ill. She hates the fact that now not only could her mother have Alzheimer's, but now cancer too. And she really hates that Santana is laying on an operating table, with Rachel's husband saving her.

There aren't many things Quinn can control right now. But she figures she could at least be by Santana's side. So after storming away from Rachel Quinn heads straight towards the OR Santana is currently in. she just placing a mask over her face, when Beiste appears by the door.

"Need something?" Beiste asks as she folds her arms over her chest.

"I'm coming in." Quinn replies urgently.

"No you're not." Beiste replies in turn, Pulling down mask to speak more clearly.

"I am." Quinn replies defiantly, walking closer to the door, expecting Beiste to move aside. "I'm her friend."

"Exactly." Beiste says, as she stands firm. "She's lying on the operating table, naked, exposed. She's sedated but she's probably scared out of her mind. Now right now she's not a doctor. She's not your friend. She's a patient and she deserves to have all the privacy I can give her. You are _not_ going in there."

Both Brody and Brittany stop what they're doing, and look over at the door where Beiste and Quinn are arguing.

Quinn sighs, pulling her mask down and looking at her feet as she admits her fear, "We went jogging this morning. I _made_ her go jogging. There's no way that could of…?"

Beiste 's stern face turns to one of understanding, when she realizes Quinn thinks this could all be her fault "oh No Punkin. No. it started out this way. Nothing caused it to happen."

Quinn finally looks up, her hazel eyes swimming with tears as she pleads, "You have to let me in there."

Besite looks at Quinn with understanding, but remains firm. "You can try. But I'd have to take you down. You're pretty tiny. I could do it." She finishes with a wry smile.

"Right now. Just in this moment. I _hate _you."

"Yeah." Besite nods sadly, "well I can take it." She finishes turning back and heading back into the OR. Taking her place once again at Santana's head and offering her intern any comfort she can.

* * *

Rachel's back up at the NICU, looking over the premature baby from this morning. She's feeling just about as lost as Quinn is today. She's at an utter loss what to do about Quinn, she knows the blonde must be hurting so much right now, and she knows that some of that hurt is down to her, but with everything with her mother and now Santana, Rachel was selfishly hoping that maybe, just maybe Quinn would forget her indiscretions and let Rachel offer her some kind of comfort, even just for a little while.

She doesn't even realize she's been crying until she hears someone enter the room. She quickly reaches up with one hand brushing the way-ward tears away, and sniffling. When she looks up at notices its Brody approaching, "Look at that, BP is stabilizing."

"She's stronger since this morning." Brody acknowledges, taking the baby's chart and quickly reading over it. "There's no reason in the world why she should be stronger since this morning."

"She's really beautiful, isn't she?" Rachel murmurs as she looks into the incubator, the baby's tiny hand clinging to Rachel's little finger.

Brody looks over at Rachel, he notices the tears in her eyes, and all he wants to do is cheer her up somehow. He flips the chat over again and sets it next to the incubator, "I'll tell you what. If she makes it though the night, if she has a little bit more strength. I'll operate."

Rachel smiles at Brody, pleased that he might actually listen to her for once. It's not a full smile, it's smaller than usual, a closed lip kind of smile. But Brody smiles back regardless, a real full genuine smile considering he can't remember the last time he saw Rachel smile at him, or because of him. He's quite for a moment, happy to just have Rachel next to him. "You know…they way I see it we could deal with _us_ in one of three ways."

He takes a small step to his left, brining him closer to Rachel. "Option 1. I could apologize. You could forgive me and come home and we could move on with our lives like adults. Or, option 2. I could apologize. You could forgive me, come home, _but_ you can still bring it up to use against me whenever we argue."

Rachel narrows her eyes at hm. "Are you trying to be funny?"

Brody leans in closer to Rachel with a smirk, "Satan has a sense of humor."

Rachel swallows nervously, from Brody's close proximity, "What's the third option?"

"I don't know what the third option is." He leans in closer again, connecting his lips to Rachel's, who just on instinct kisses back, just a split second before Brody pulls away, which is enough for him. "I just know that I still love you." He whispers before turning and leaving Rachel alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Santana made it though the surgery. And after much arguing Beiste managed to convince the other interns to go back to work and let her handle everything with Santana. It may have taken some threats, but they all listened in the end. She's been sitting by Santana's bed for about an hour before the brunette finally begins to stir.

"What happened?" Santana asks, still groggy.

"You had an extra uterine pregnancy. Your left fallopian tube burst." Beiste tells her straight away. She knows Santana would appreciate the directness. Beiste sighs before she continues, "Dr. Weston…he did everything he could but there was too much damage. He couldn't save the tube."

Santana doesn't respond. She just closes her eyes again and turns her head away from Beiste. Hoping that maybe if she closes her eyes this will all have been a nightmare.

* * *

"Hey." Puck greets as he exits his patient's room and runs straight into Quinn.

"Hey. Is she awake? Did it work?" Quinn asks worried, with how everything else in her life going wrong she can only assume that the surgeries she's involved with failed too.

"It worked. No complications." Puck reassures her, "Kelly seems pretty pleased that she doesn't turn into a tomato every time Schuester's mentioned."

"Guess it was worth the risk then."

Pick shrugs, "Still think its nuts having major surgery just so people can't tell how you're feeling."

"Really, do you?"

"Nah. I guess not." Puck walks ahead a little but stops and turns back to Quinn. "You could talk you know…if you need to."

"I'm fine." Quinn replies automatically.

Puck scoffs, "You've said that word so many times today it doesn't even sound like a word anymore. Just saying you can talk to me 'cause even if I repeat every word you say no one around here likes me. They'll just call me a liar and move on."

Quinn smirks, "Brittany likes you."

He rolls his eyes, mostly because Brittany likes everyone. "Shut up." They both share a smile. "Look for what it's worth, I don't know how you're still on your feet. If I found out my mom might have cancer I'd be under the bar right now."

"You want the ugly truth?"

"What you have an ugly truth?" he shakes his head, "never would have picked you to have an ugly truth."

"I'm more afraid she doesn't have cancer." Quinn shares quietly.

"Well…liver cancer's fast. Painful. But it's fast, and they give you morphine. They don't give you morphine for Alzheimer's." Puck replies, full of understanding.

"No they don't." Quinn sighs for what feels like the millionth time that day. "What kind of person whishes their mother had cancer?"

Sadly for her, Puck has no answer.

* * *

After her chat with Puck, Quinn heads up to the lab to wait for her mother's results. She finds Sam already waiting there, they share a small smile. They just sit there in silence a little while, which Quinn is eternally grateful for.

About 5 minutes later, they both turn to the door as it opens to find Brittany approaching "Hey did you get your mom's biopsy results back yet?" Brittany asks as she makes her way to sit between Sam and Quinn.

"Not yet." Sam answers for her.

"How's Santana?" Quinn asks sounding tired.

Brittany sighs, "She's ah…she's gonna have a lot of pain for a few days but she'll be okay."

"I'm glad you were there."

"Are you?" Brittany remarks.

"Yeah, I am." Quinn replies sounding surprised by the question.

"It's just…it's just that a lot of the time it feels like you and Santana are kind of over there." She gestures with her hands, "and…I'm here."

Quinn smiles sadly at Brittany, she never meant to make her feel that way. "So…about Puck."

Sam groans in the background just at the mention of his name, Brittany rolls her eyes, "Yeah I know, I know. You guys hate him. Fine."

"Yeah we do." Quinn concedes, I mean he did give Sam syphilis…in a roundabout kind of way. "But I just want to say that, I believe you. That he's different once you get to know him."

Quinn's relieved when she gets a beaming smile from Brittany.

Their conversation's interrupted when the Lab tech appears. "Here you go. Judy Fabray." He says as he hands the results to Quinn.

Sam and Brittany both look on anxiously as Quinn takes a deep breath and reads the results.

Benign. Her mother doesn't have cancer.

She's literally so emotionally, and physically exhausted she can't even work out how she feels about it. She turns wearily to Sam and hands him the lab results, "Let her know." She adds as she begins to walk away.

"Quinn, are you okay?" Brittany calls after her.

"No." Quinn replies shaking her head as she walks off, "I'm not okay."

* * *

It's been a long, _long,_ confusing day. And Rachel really can't wait to get out to the quietness of the cabin and just relax for the evening and just forget about….well everything. She makes her way out of the hospital exit, heading towards her car. But the sight of blonde hair in her peripheral vision stops her in her tracks. It's cold out, like freezing and when she turns to look at the hunched over figure, dressed only in scrubs she realizes it's Quinn sitting on a bench.

Rachel can only see her back, and she doesn't want to startle the blonde so she calls softly. "Quinn?"

"Oh." Quinn whimpers softly. Rachel's the last person she wanted to find her like this.

"Quinn." Rachel tries again.

"Don't….please, please just don't say anything." Quinn sobs.

Rachel's slightly taken aback by the quiver in Quinn's voice. She may not be able to see the blondes face, but it's obvious from just her voice that she's crying "Okay." She concedes gently.

Neither of them speak for a long few moments, a part of Rachel knows she should probably leave and let Quinn have the privacy she desires, but the other part of Rachel just can't bear the thought of leaving Quinn alone on a cold night on an empty bench.

She's still standing there deciding what to do when Quinn finally gets up, she moves around the bench, keeping her head bowed until she comes to a stop in front of Rachel.

And when she finally looks up to meet the brunette's concerned gaze, Rachel's breathe catches in her throat at the devastatingly beautiful sight of Quinn Fabray in tears.

"I'm just so exhausted." Quinn whimpers, unable to stop more tears from spilling down her cheeks. "My mother is exhausting. What happened to Santana and you" She takes a step closer to Rachel "…hating you is the _most_ exhausting." She takes hold of Rachel's face, stroking her thumbs against the smooth skin before leaning in and kissing Rachel briefly. It's a fast kiss, lasting barely more than a few seconds, but she pours more emotion and passion into the kiss than she ever could though words alone. She pulls back, resting her forehead against the brunette's, "I don't want to do it anymore."

Her whispered confession is almost hoarse from the tears Quinn's shed, but it's a tone that sends shivers down Rachel's spine even in her current speechless state. She's stunned. And it's not until after Quinn's finished speaking that Rachel realizes her eyes are still closed. When she opens them again Quinn's already walking away - back towards the hospital.

_**No one likes to lose control but as a surgeon there's nothing worse.**_

_**It's a sign of weakness. Or not being up to the task.**_

_**And still there are times when it just gets away from you.**_

_**When the world stops spinning. And you realize that your shiny little scalpel isn't going to save you.**_

As far as days go, Quinn's just about ready to confirm this as one of the worst on record. The secret's she's been struggling to keep has finally made itself known to everyone around her. In fact her mother is currently reliving her hey-day of being an intern and Seattle Grace

Her mother, who potentially had liver cancer because Quinn didn't see the signs, because she wasn't there.

Then of course her best friend ended up having to be rushed in to surgery, and again she wasn't there. She didn't notice.

Which is probably why she finds herself outside of Santana's room. She watches from the door a few moments, before biting the bullet and making her way into the room. Santana will probably hate it, but Quinn needs this, and she knows deep down Santana will appreciate it. So with that in mind she makes her way towards Santana's bed. Slipping off her shoes she climbs up next to her friend, being mindful not to hurt her. She maneuvers herself on to her side and rests her head on Santana's shoulders.

"You're hugging me." Santana notes groggily.

"Shut-up. I'm your person. We need this."

Santana doesn't respond, but she does rest a hand on top of Quinn's and pats it lightly.

Quinn takes it as a win.

_**No matter how hard you fight it. You fail. And It's scary as hell.**_

She's still there a few hours later, even when Martinez walks past, hoping to get a moment or too alone with Santana to discuss what happened.

When he looks in her room, he finds Santana fast asleep, with Quinn still cuddling the brunette.

He looks around the rest of the room, finding Brittany quickly snapping a picture of Santana and Quinn as they sleep, while Sam leans against the wall pretending to be engrossed with what's outside the window, but actually just stealing glances at Quinn when he can.

What comes as a surprise to Martinez is finding Puck sitting on the chair next to Santana's bed, trying to look like he's totally bored and not wanting to be there. Except everyone in the room knows he doesn't have to be there. He could have gone home hours ago if he had wanted.

He decides it's best not to disturb them.

_**Except there's an upside to free falling. It's the chance you give your friends to catch you.**_


End file.
